Insatiable
by specter17
Summary: "I know. I'm telling you I chose wrong," she said. And I know, I just know she's about to pull us deeper in the rabbit hole than either of us would like, but I don't stop her. I can't. DELENA
1. Prologue

_Can__ we ever get rid of the whats and the ifs_**  
**_That doubts that exist in our minds_**  
**_In the silence I am tricked into thinking you'll forget_**  
**_And I'll be stranded like a man in a mine_****

_- Between by Courrier_

* * *

**ELENA**

_Rationally_,_ Stefan is the logical choice. Slow and steady and quiet - comfortable. It's like I'm in this bubble – safe, contained, and somehow too perfect. Ever since I turned, there's a constant sense of anxiety hovering on the periphery of everything he does. As though I'm about to lose control, fall off the pedestal I've been so lovingly placed on. He thought I was flawless, and it's become…exhausting to try and live up to his expectations. Would that be _so_ bad, to lose control, just once?_

_I don't know where that came from. There's so much going on in my head right now, unorganized thoughts and memories tangled like knotted seaweed. But I can't stop thinking about Damon._

I closed my eyes for a minute, remembering.

"Damon, don't go there." I shook my head, feeling my heart plummet and rise as if it couldn't quite decide which way to go.

He stepped closer. "I just have to say it once. You need to hear it." He paused, his eyes soft and achingly vulnerable. "I love you, Elena." My heart pounded. He tilted his head. "But I don't deserve you." Words were stuck in my throat. My mind was screaming at me to say something, but nothing came out. I felt mesmerized by his gaze, intense and curiously bright. His thumb gently stroked my jaw. "God, I wish you didn't have to forget this," he whispered.

_I remember now. God, he makes me feel like…nothing I've ever felt before. Being with him is like being trapped in a supernova - flash and burn, soar and crash, sizzle and explode. Terrifying and consuming, brilliant and devastating all at once. And through all that, I feel like I can just be…me. Slightly crazy, obsessively neurotic, and very definitely flawed, yet somehow there's no fear he'll ever even judge me. I know what I wanted when I was human. And it's not the same anymore._

* * *

**DAMON **

Loving Elena is a little like what I'd imagine being addicted to drugs is like. My own little brand of heroin, personalized just for me. And Stefan, apparently. I crave her presence. I need her, the same way I need blood. I fell in love with her, even while I told myself I didn't need her. But then I try being away from her and it's shit. It's like going through withdrawal. I feel like I'm trying to live off of Stefan's goddamn bunny diet when all I really want is some pulsing AB positive straight from the throat of a fucking sorority girl. I wake up from dreams so vivid I could swear it was real – that she's actually there in the flesh instead of a phantom memory pushing itself into my consciousness. You wonder how something that feels so fucking good can possibly cause this much damage to my already questionable psyche. I still don't know the answer to that. I think I love her so much it can't possibly be healthy. But I've tried being without her – and it's not any fucking better. It's worse.

I don't know when exactly I fell in love with her. All those little moments of impossible attraction – stolen glances, whispered confessions, less-than-heroic rescues, even a kiss or two thrown in there – they add up, I guess. Hell, I don't know. All I do know is that I can't seem to live without her. Which poses a gigantic pain-in-the-ass fucking problem for me, as she's in love with my brother.

_"It's Stefan. It will always be Stefan!"_

Well, that lovely memory is seared into my retina for the rest of eternity.

* * *

**Please review! Suggestions, comments, helpful criticism all welcome. I'll go more into plot and such after this. x**


	2. Chapter 1

_I, I can't get these memories out of my mind,_**  
**_And some kind of madness has started to evolve._  
**  
**_I, I tried so hard to let you go,_**  
**_But some kind of madness is swallowing me whole_

_- Madness by Muse_

* * *

**DAMON**

I'm not sure what idiotic part of me decided it was a good idea to drop by Elena's house. We're not exactly…buddies. She 'cares' about me, which I guess is supposed to be this huge epic thing. Erect a monument – someone actually gives a shit.

It's not enough. I want more.

What the actual fuck. Why do I even bother thinking about it? It will never happen, I repeated to myself as I gritted my teeth. My hands gripped the steering wheel in frustration as my mind decided to replay the moment in which Elena professed her undying love for Stefan. Ha. Not that it's a singular moment or anything. I'm fairly certain there's a tiny goblin stowed away somewhere in my messed-up psyche that finds it amusing to manipulate my life: i.e, have me fall in love with Katherine and then Elena only to have both of them choose Stefan. Feelings are so goddamn overrated.

I slammed on the gas pedal, promptly deciding to take a detour to the Grill. I could use a glass or three of bourbon to fuel my oh-so-tragic self-pity party. Right now, alcohol sounds like the best fucking idea I've had in the past 150-plus years. My foot hovered over the pedal as I pulled up to the next stoplight. On second thought…I should probably check on the Gilbert household, baby vampire on the loose and all. Just to make sure she won't drain little Gilbert and then brood about it Stefan-style. Like I really need two guilt-ridden, bunny-addicted goddamn _martyrs _running around _together _on top of the rest of my problems.

I pulled up in front of the house, idling in the driveway. I could hear Elena arguing on the phone inside.

"Caroline, it's none of your business!" she was hissing. My ears perked up. What was Blondie trying to say? I strained, trying to catch what she was saying on the other line.

"Fine! I'm just saying, as one of your best friends, you're making a mistake. Stefan's just trying to be there for you."

Elena paced back and forth, the faint scent of honey and citrus wafting behind her. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger. "I know. But it's not what I need right now," she insisted. "Please respect that, Care."

Blondie sighed. The little goblin inside of me leapt uncontrollably. I could practically feel him gleefully tossing fistfuls of confetti. "Okay. I hope you know what you're doing."

I got of the car and jumped up through the window.

* * *

**ELENA**

"Damon!" He was lying on my bed, ankles crossed and hands laced casually behind his head.

"El-_ena_. Cute PJs." I felt my face flame. Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have gone with the Cookie Monster set tonight. Not that it matters anyway, I chastised myself. Or, wait. Maybe it does. I -

"What?" Caroline screeched. "Is he thereright now? Are you guys in your _bedroom?_ Tell me what's – "

"I'll call you back," I said, cutting her off as I kept my eyes on Damon. He grinned back innocently. He _always_ catches me off guard. Not to mention the fact that everything he says, including my name, is laced with some kind of sexual innuendo.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, tucking a piece of hair behind my ears. I felt nervous suddenly, as if I didn't know what to do with my hands. I backed up against my dresser.

He shrugged. "I'm bored." In a flash, he was in front of me, inches away. I inhaled involuntarily, wondering if he had always smelled like this or if it was my new senses picking up on it only now. He smirked as he noticed. "Can I get you a tissue?"

"No," I retorted, trying to recollect myself. "Seriously, Damon, what do you want?" I asked, regarding him warily.

He rolled his eyes. "Relax. I thought we were friends again."

"We are," I agreed carefully. He smiled. I blinked, trying to retain my composure. "Except you're going to explain to me, as a _friend_, why you compelled me."

He cocked his head. "What are we talking about?" he asked, stalling for time.

"You _know_ what I'm talking about Damon," I said, heat rushing into my face. I turned around, facing the mirror. "I met you first," I said to the tiny pots of nail polish littering the table. "You let me say all that…stuff about things being different if only I'd met you first." I raised my eyes to meet his in the mirror. "Why didn't you say anything?" I asked, suddenly angry.

Damon looked away. "Elena…" he started.

"No! This isn't a joke, Damon. How could you let me say something like that when you _knew _it wasn't true?"

He met my eyes again. His gaze was burning. "And what if I had? Would it have made a difference?" he shot back.

I whirled around. "What is wrong with you? Yes! Okay? Yes! It would have made all the difference!"

"What's wrong with _me_?" he asked in disbelief. "What's wrong with _you_? _You're _the one who had the choice, and you're the one who chose Stefan." His words fell abruptly into silence, like glass shattering upon impact.

I felt as if my stomach were in knots, twisting into a hopeless mess of emotions. I placed my palms behind me for support. "You told me you loved me," I said shakily. "Why would you make me forget that?"

He scoffed. "Like you didn't already know," he said quietly.

"Damon – " I didn't even know what I was going to say. Maybe I didn't know. Maybe I did. Maybe I just didn't want to see it, because admitting that would open a chasm I didn't know how to handle. "Me and Stefan, we – "

He turned away abruptly. "You don't get to do this Elena," he said. "You don't get to just pick one of us on a whim, or use me whenever you feel like it. I can't do this anymore," he continued. "I can't be here, waiting, like a spare fucking tire. You say you're not Katherine, but you're acting a hell of a lot like her."

"That's not fair," I snapped.

"So say it." His eyes blazed into mine. He took a step closer. "Say it right now." We stood there, staring at each other. In my silence, he blurred towards the window, leaving the thin veil fluttering in the wind.

"I feel like I'm falling in love with you," I said to the air. "I want you, I want everything, and I don't know how to handle it. You scare me, and thrill me, and...and that danger is so insanely tempting and incredibly terrifying at the same time. If I let myself really fall for you, I don't know how I could ever find my way out." The veil was still, the wind gone.

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews and follows! Constructive feedback always appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 2

_I'll seek you out  
Flay you alive  
One more word and you won't survive  
And I'm not scared  
Of your stolen power  
I see right through you any hour_

_I won't soothe your pain_  
_I won't ease your strain_  
_You'll be waiting in vain_  
_I got nothing for you to gain_

_- Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation_

* * *

**DAMON**

Warm. Tangy. Satisfying – but not quite, I reflected as I tossed her aside. She stumbled, faint from the loss of blood. I wiped my mouth, savoring the salty, metallic taste. "Sweetie? Come here," I ordered, staring into her eyes. She smiled blissfully, obediently swaying slightly on the spot. "That's a good girl," I cooed. "Now…you won't remember this. You went to a party and had a little too much to drink. Got it?" She nodded, eyes half-lidded in glazed compliance. "Good." I cocked my head at her. "Now run." She ran, tripping in her heels. Her scent filled my nostrils once again, the sweet odor of tequila mingling with sticky sweat and something vaguely citrus-y. Mmm. Come to think of it, that _was _quite yummy. I was in front of her in less than a second, pinning her against the brick wall as she struggled. "Shh," I soothed, placing a finger against her lips. I felt the familiar sensation of veins pulsing near my eyes as my fangs descended. "Don't be scared." I leaned in, brushing my lips lightly against her neck. Blood pulsated just below a thin membrane of soft, pale skin.

"That feels good," she murmured.

"Yeah, it's a shame I have to kill you," I answered conversationally. My fangs hovered just above her coronary.

"Why?"

I stopped. "What?" I asked, even though I'd heard her.

"Why do you have to kill me?" she repeated dreamily.

I paused. "Because I'm not the good guy." I'm not Prince Charming, or the hero in the fairytale. I'm the big bad wolf who ate your grandmother – literally. I'm not here to rescue you from the dragon, because I _am _the dragon. I'm not Edward fucking Cullen, not least of which because I don't sparkle in the sun like a goddamn fairy.

"But you didn't kill me before," she insisted.

I frowned. "You know, you're _very _talkative."

"Damon, what the hell?" I turned my head. Stefan was standing there, looking at me with a familiar expression of righteous shock. I rolled my eyes. "You know what they say, brother," I greeted him lazily, briefly letting go of the girl. "Two's company, three's a crowd. Go get your own, I don't share," I continued, nuzzling her neck as she giggled. Stefan shot me a disgusted glare as he took the girl by the shoulders and stared at her meaningfully. "Go home."

"I wasn't done," I complained as she left.

"Yes, you were," Stefan answered tightly.

"Oh please," I scoffed. "Like you didn't want to drain her just as much as I did." I leaned closer to him. "_Ripper." _I let the word drip from my mouth.

"Ah, but I didn't," he said dryly, ignoring the moniker. "That's the difference."

"But you will, one of these days. Probably any day now, you're overdue for a bender." I smirked as Stefan's scowl deepened. "Ooh, have I touched a nerve?"

"You've always been an ass," Stefan responded. "I'm used to it."

I shrugged. "Why are you here then? Brotherly bonding session?" I asked sarcastically.

"Elena's upset," he answered.

"Ask me if I give a shit." My little goblin friend hopped anxiously, despite how much I tried to squash the sucker. Damn Elena Gilbert and her ability to make me keeping _feeling _things.

"I don't have to," he said, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. He folded his arms across his chest. "I know you do."

"Isn't she more your area?" I deflected.

He looked away. "I'm giving her…space."

"I'm sure you'll get back together in about a nanosecond," I said dismissively, though a part of me registered the fact that this was the second person acknowledging trouble in paradise.

"No. It's different this time," Stefan said decisively. My goblin beamed, sending out sparks of hope that I tried to systematically ignore.

"I hope you're not expecting me to comfort you," I said sardonically. "Excuse me if I don't run out for rom-coms and Ben & Jerry." I studied him. "I could get you a blood bag, if you want," I offered. "Nearest hospital's only five minutes away."

"Shut up, Damon, I'm serious." Well, there's a shocker. When is he not serious? He's either all broody McBroodster or completely off the deep end. He has no in-between.

I yawned casually. "Well, let me know how it all turns out. I'm dying to know the end. You know I'm a sucker for soap operas." I grinned. "See, that was funny because I'm already dead."

"Please don't stop, you're hysterical," Stefan deadpanned.

I grinned. "As you wish, little brother. Hey, did you hear about the witch, the vampire, and the hunter who all go to a bar – "

"I'm worried about her," Stefan broke in. He ruined my punch-line. He always was a killjoy.

"When are you not worried about something?" I shot back.

"Can you just…make sure she's okay?" he asked, looking as if he'd rather roll around in vervain than ask for my help. Which is probably true.

I laughed bitterly. "I'm the last person she wants to see right now."

"She asked about you. She said she called you, but you didn't pick up."

Oh? Oh, she _asked _for me. So I'm supposed to go at the snap of her fingers because Her Majesty requested me. Right, I get it now – I'm at her beck and call. Always have been, always will be.

"Don't pretend you don't care about her," Stefan insisted, correctly assessing my inner monologue. The goblin was nodding fervently in agreement. Treacherous little creature.

"I don't," I growled. "Find some other lackey to do your dirty work." I turned my back decisively, heading towards the nearest bar. "I'm busy."

* * *

**ELENA**

"Elena, come on. You have to feed." Stefan was holding a cup in front of my face, filled to the brim with animal blood. I instinctively curled up, turning away from the smell wafting towards me. It was so…unappealing. "I don't want it."

Stefan sighed and placed the mug down. "I know it's hard," he said gently. "But you need to adjust to it." I sighed and lifted the cup to my mouth. The thick, dark liquid sloshed slowly. I took a sip hesitantly. Instantly, I was coughing, spewing it all over the table.

"Are you okay?" Stefan was already at my side, placing a reassuring hand on my back. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'm fine. Could you just…could you just give me some space?" He backed away from me. "Sure," he answered, though I could see the hurt pooling in his dark eyes. "I'll come by later."

"No," I said without thinking. Stefan turned around slowly. "I mean…I'll call you first." I smiled weakly. He nodded wordlessly and left.

He makes me feel like a failure, like I'm something broken he needs to fix. Like a clock with a missing gear, or a car engine that needs to be oiled. He wants to _nurture _me, which I know is his way of being kind, but it feels like I'm suffocating. I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, shutting my eyes. I don't know what's happening to me.

I stood there, staring out the window. Dusk was falling.

I was starving.

Barely aware of what I was doing, I opened the front door and stepped outside. A light breeze ruffled my hair, bringing with it a delicious fragrance. Apples, cinnamon, peaches. I turned and followed the scent. It grew stronger. I quickened my pace. I was so close now. I stopped in front of a small house not far from my own neighborhood. A woman, probably a mother, was standing on a chair on the porch, trying to fix the light bulb. Her apron was lightly dusted with cinnamon. I wondered if she had been making a pie. She saw me and smiled.

I didn't move. Her smile faltered slightly. "I know I look a bit silly," she said, laughing awkwardly. "My husband usually does these things, but he's away on business. So it's just me and the kids!" She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped down from the chair. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked, coming closer.

I stiffened. The scent was so strong. I felt like there were two parts of me, split exactly down the middle. The predator was urging me to pounce, to sink my fangs into her soft, cinnamon-scented neck.

And drink, and drink

and drink. My gums ached as I imagined what her blood would taste like. The _smell _alone…The other part of me – the part that was screaming not to do this, that she was a mother with kids and completely innocent – was growing fainter by the second. I felt blood rushing to my eyes as the tiny veins sprang alive. My throat blazed with a prickly, dry ache.

I flew towards her, burying my teeth in her neck. My nose was pressed against her skin, inhaling her fragrance as I drank. The blood was so sweet, with a delicious, coppery undertone. It was nothing like the animal blood Stefan had offered me. I felt alive, rejuvenated as the crimson liquid spread throughout my body, crackling through my veins like hot electricity. Her body began to slump in my hands, but I couldn't stop. _She tasted so good._

Suddenly, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and rip me away.

* * *

**DAMON**

"Elena, stop!" I grabbed her and pulled her away from the woman, who collapsed onto the floor of the porch. She struggled and kicked against my hold, thrashing wildly. "Ow!" Goddamn it, that _hurt_. I pressed a hand to my cheekbone where she'd landed one of her flailing punches, keeping the other hand wrapped securely around her waist. I roughly turned her around to face me, trying not to think about how good it felt to hold her. _Focus. _"Elena," I said, looking into her eyes. "Stop. It's me. You have to stop."

Slowly, the feral light died from her eyes, and Elena peered back at me. "Wha – " She looked down at herself as if noticing her blood-drenched clothes for the first time. I guess she takes after Stefan – he always was a messy eater. "Oh my God," she whispered.

I let go of her abruptly and turned towards the woman lying crumpled on the ground. She was alive, but barely. I bit my wrist and pressed it against her mouth. She stirred, moaning. I glanced back at Elena. She stood frozen in horror, her hand to her mouth. "Go home, Elena."

She didn't move. For Christ's sake. I tossed her over my shoulder. What a cozy little scene, the two of us standing over an almost-dead body. Pedestrians must think we're adorable. "Let's go. Oh – " I turned back to the woman. "Almost forgot," I said, ignoring Elena's thrashes.

"Put me down!"

"No can do, sweetie. Now, for you – " I stared into the woman's eyes. "You will not remember this night. Tomorrow, you'll be sore from that really hard Zumba class you did." I think that covers everything. "Well, sleep tight." I eyed her clothing. "Don't forget to do the laundry."

* * *

**Thank you to everyone reading! I love your reviews, please keep them coming. I know you wanted longer chapters, so this is at least slightly longer. I promise I'll go more into plot soon (it will vaguely follow some parts of the show, but not all), but I want to set up the characters first so bear with me! x**


	4. Chapter 3

_And all your different faces and all your different ways are making everything a mess  
And all I'm saying is that all your different places and all the complications led to this_

_And I can't deny your eyes_  
_You know I try to read between the lines_  
_I saw a warning sign_  
_And then you threw me up against the wall_  
_Who said that it's better to have loved and lost?_  
_I wish that I had never loved at all_

_-Up Against the Wall by Boys Like Girls_

* * *

**DAMON**

Elena stared out the window, watching Mystic Falls rush by in a blur. "I can't believe I did that," she whispered, her velvety brown eyes glistening with tears.

I glanced over at her. "Oh, please. Pull yourself together."

She looked shocked, as if no one had spoken to her that way before. Which I suppose is probably true. Saint Stefan is far too busy coddling her with his head up his ass to give her what she actually needs: a dose of reality. He prefers to spend his time with his head stuck in the sand, ostrich-style, rather than face the shit that tends to explode in front of his face. Denial is powerful coping mechanism, after all. "You're a vampire, Elena," I said, keeping my eyes carefully on the road. "Get it through your head."

"I almost killed someone!" she cried, wringing her hands.

Boo-fucking-hoo. "Do you want a medal?" I deadpanned. "You were hungry, you fed, she didn't die."

Elena looked down, fiddling with her daylight ring. "She would have died if you hadn't been there," she said softly. "I would have killed her."

We are not doing this now. I am not playing white knight to her damsel-in-distress. That's Stefan's job, not mine. "Are you seriously going to mope about it?" I demanded, unable to stop myself from biting the bullet. "Did Stefan teach you _anything _besides Brooding 101?" I resisted the urge to crush the steering wheel into Silly Putty. _I love this car, I love this car_, I chanted to myself.

"I can't do it. I can't feed off animals," Elena admitted.

Why am I even here listening to Elena's little woe-is-me speech? I seriously regretted coming in the first place. Goddamn Stefan and his ability to guilt me into doing shit I don't want to do. Especially concerning Elena. I shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. Just…" She continued staring at her hands. "I liked it," she said in a rush.

A baby vampire who likes the taste of human blood? Impossible. I sighed. "That's not surprising. Every part of your body is wired to like it."

"But Stefan – " she interrupted. I gnashed my teeth in frustration. Why does he have to come up in every single conversation I have? "Stefan routinely goes through cycles of self-righteousness, denial, raging bloodthirst, and overwhelming guilt. In case you haven't noticed, bunny blood doesn't exactly work out for him, either." Yeah. And _I'm _the bad guy. He's the one who frequently massacres a staggering amount of bodies, but it's okay because he feels oh-so-bad about it later. He's a fucking masochist, I swear. Tell me one other person who actually keeps a list of all the people they killed. Cue frowny-face now.

She was quiet for a few minutes. Thank God. Just as I was beginning to settle comfortably into the silence, she spoke again. "Will you teach me?" she asked beseechingly.

Oh hell no. I'm not falling for this trap again. I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling in frustration. "Not part of my job description. It's not my fault Stefan doesn't know his ass from Pinnochio's." You can't learn control if you spend a century and a half convincing yourself you're almost-human. It's common sense. Clearly all those years of high-school have been lost on him.

"You don't have to be mean to him," Elena said, predictably coming to his defense. "He's trying, in his own way."

Yeah, okay. In his own very special way that requires him to try and live off groundhogs and other fluffy things. I stopped the car in front of the boarding house.

"We're staying here tonight?" Elena asked.

"No. I am," I said, getting out of the car. She followed immediately. "What about me?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Find your own place. You're not some fragile little human, Elena. I'm sure you can take care of yourself."

"But Jeremy can't see me like this!" she said, gesturing to the dried blood on her clothes.

I glanced at her. "Yup. Probably not the best idea," I agreed, spinning my key ring around my finger as I headed up to the door. "That and you might be…_tempted_ by Baby Gilbert, anyway."

"So where am I supposed to go?!"

I paused at the threshold. "Find a motel?" I suggested. "Those seem to turn you on," I added, shutting the door in her face.

* * *

"Damon?"

My eyes snapped open. Elena was hovering in front of me, approximately three inches from my face. Her chocolate brown eyes were all soft and serious, an expression she must have picked up from Saint Stefan. I stared at her for a second before my brain cells kicked in.

"Jesus Christ, Elena," I said irritably, struggling to get out from beneath her. "Ever heard of personal space?" I asked, trying to sit up. Preferably before my nether region decides to pop up and say hello.

She stared back at me. "Are you seriously bringing up personal space?" she asked, referring to our slight tendency to dry-hump whenever we happened to be in close enough proximity.

"Whatever," I mumbled, running a hand through my hair. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked, taking in her outfit. I narrowed my eyes. "Is that my shirt?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I had to have _something_ to wear."

Hmm. Or not. I tried to keep the blood flow above my waist.

"I stayed at Caroline's last night," she continued as if I cared. I raised an eyebrow. "And you couldn't have stolen one of her shirts instead?"

Elena grinned coquettishly. "I like yours so much better." I glared at her and didn't say anything. "Um…I didn't kill anyone last night?" she said, trying for levity.

I rolled my eyes. "That's because you drank enough for six people last night. You have the self-control of a fruit fly," I said, stretching my arms and intending to head to the basement for a blood bag. "Can I get you anything?" I asked innocently as I rose. Her eyes ran over my bare abdomen.

"Huh?" she said distractedly, staring somewhere below the vicinity of my waist. I pulled a black V-neck over my head. As much fun as it is to ruffle her feathers, it gets me nowhere if she's incoherent.

"AB positive? A little O-neg?" I leaned closer, pulling the corner of my lips into a conspiratorial smirk. "Soccer mom?"

She hissed angrily, baring her fangs. I rolled my eyes. Baby vamps and their heightened emotional bullshit. I swear to God I'm too old for this. "I'm terrified," I told her sarcastically as she pummeled me with her tiny, ineffectual fists.

Which, in hindsight, was perhaps not the smartest thing I could have said. The little hellcat narrowed her eyes, backed up, and took a flying leap at me. Startled, I tumbled to the ground. More out of shock than anything else – it usually takes more than a doe to take me down. She landed with her palms on my chest, straddling my hips. Slowly, she met my eyes. There was a mixture of surprise, defiance, and a dash of that Petrova fire that seems to have burst out ever since she transitioned. Maybe she hadn't meant to trap me in this compromising position, but she sure as hell wasn't sorry about it. Despite my best intentions – fuck me if I'm not almost as far in denial as Stefan - my goblin friend was throwing a fucking party in my pants.

"Case in point," I drawled, trying to inject my tone with a suitable amount of sarcasm. I took her brief moment of confusion to flip her over. "You have no self-control. If you wanted me, you just had to ask."

Elena blinked. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"I want you," she whispered, staring straight at me and biting her lower lip.

_What? _No. She can't waltz in here and drop a fucking bomb on me just like that. Loving her has gotten me exactly nowhere. Or no, that's a lie – it's gotten me shoulder-deep in a pile of shit more times than I can count. "Don't say things you don't mean," I breathed, searching her eyes.

"I'm not," she insisted.

Holy shit. "I…Elena," I managed. "We can't…this isn't happening."

She leaned even closer. "So tell me to stop." I felt her breath on my neck, tickling my ear. Her lips brushed my skin, trailing kisses along my jaw line. She hovered just above my lips. Fucking hell. I screwed up every ounce of determination I possessed and pushed her away. Goddamn it, I've effectively neutered myself. "Sorry, but you don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to knowing what you want." I ran a hand over my face. Fuck. I need a cold shower. "I can't do this," I muttered under my breath. Like, ice-cold.

"Do what?" Elena challenged.

_Do not crumble, you pussy._ I inhaled. "This thing. The thing we always do, where you eye-fuck me and mess with my mind." Ergo, this thing that goes absolutely nowhere except Mind-Fuck Central. I really should get IT WILL ALWAYS BE STEFAN tattooed on my ass, since I seem forget every time I'm in her presence. "So spare me this whole drama and run along." Elena doesn't know what the fuck she wants. She's living out an epic love tale with Saint Stefan and then boom, she's on top of me with bedroom eyes. And then it's me who gets screwed over in the end, just like always, because I can't change, I don't want to change, and I'll eventually end up disappointing her. It's only a matter of time before she goes running back to Stefan. "You made your choice, Elena."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I know. I'm telling you I chose wrong." She began to pace. "I'm sorry, Damon. I should have said this before, but I…I didn't know how." Elena took a deep breath. "Don't," she said, seeing my face. "I need to say this."

And I know, I just know she's about to pull us deeper in the rabbit hole than either of us would like, but I don't stop her. I can't, because a part of me wants so badly to hear what I think she's saying that there isn't room for anything else.

"I think…it was easier to paint you as the bad guy, because you were always the one willing to do what no one else wanted to do." She paused. "I know you would have saved me first, Damon."

Goddamn fucking right I would have saved her. No matter what she said, because I'm selfish that way. I wanted her to live. I wanted her to have the life she wanted to have. I wanted to have the chance to get eye-fucked, mind-fucked, and generally blown away by the girl I love, because it's better than not having her there at all. Fuck Stefan for being such a pussy. Now he walks around looking so sad you almost want to comfort him before you remember it's his fucking fault we're in this situation in the first place. I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening now.

"And I can't regret that Matt lived," she said softly. "But now…I don't regret becoming a vampire either." She looked at me, tears clinging to her lashes. "Because it made me realize what I feel for you."

Pathetic bastard that I am, I couldn't help myself. I stroked her tears away with my thumb as gently as I could. She leaned into my chest, burying her face in my shirt. "I know I screwed everything up," she mumbled into the fabric. I know she's snotting it up, but not a single part of me manages to push her away. In fact, hell if it didn't feel like heaven just to have her in my arms. "But please…I _need_ you." Elena drew back enough to look me in the eye. "Maybe it took me becoming a vampire to see it, or admit it to myself, but…I love you, Damon."

**ELENA**

He looked as if he were about to say something, but I placed a finger against his lips. If I don't get this out now, I never will. "Not some ideal of you, not because I think I can change you. I just…love you. All of you." I smiled wryly. "You consume me. And that used to scare the hell out of me. But you're the only one who calls me out on my bullshit, and I need that. You don't look at me as if I'm a porcelain doll who's so damn fragile she can't think for herself." I touched his cheek. "You're what I want, and nothing you or anybody else does or says will change my mind."

Damon's eyes were churning, a storm in icy waters. "I can't be what you need," he whispered. "I'm not Stefan."

"I know that." I wanted to cry at the absurdity of it. "I don't want you to be. I love _you,_ Damon," I repeated firmly.

Suddenly, his lips were crushing mine. He slammed me against the wall so hard I heard it crack. I gasped, arching back, feeling as though every nerve ending on my body had sudden awoken. His hand slid under my shirt as my legs wrapped around his hips. I groaned unconsciously as my fangs descended. I could barely decipher the barrage of emotions that flooded over me. Lust, love, hunger, thirst, desire of every kind crackled through me. A thousand stars burst into flames, shattering into millions of tiny glittering diamonds. Worlds collided. Emotions clashed. An inferno of words finally said extinguished, the embers sizzling hot. I couldn't care less. I couldn't even think. The only thing I could do was feel – and love.

He looked at me with a strangely inexplicable expression. His eyes were bursting with emotion. It was love, but it wasn't the gentle, kind love I had known before. It was fierce, uncontrollable, and crazily, intensely, passionate. Consuming. "I love you too, Elena. But you already knew that," he said with a rueful smile.

_Don't you see?_  
_I'm not the only one for you,_  
_But you're the only one for me._

_- Stay Close, Don't Go by Secondhand Serenade_

* * *

**Thank you so much for your reviews and alerts, please continue with them! **


	5. Chapter 4

**I'm going more into plot in this chapter, so please let me know if any of it turns out confusing. Also, I know Gloria is dead, but I like her so she's going to show up in this x**

* * *

**ELENA**

He was snoring softly. I fought the urge to laugh, propping myself up on an elbow to get a better look at him. His lashes were so dark against his pale skin, his lips red and slightly swollen. The contours of his cheekbones and jaw line were so perfect I wondered if they had been chiseled. He looked almost heartbreakingly innocent, like some fallen angel trapped in a too-harsh world.

Damon stirred, his lips curling into a smile as he woke up. "You're being a creeper," he said with his eyes still closed. His voice was slightly hoarse, a playful velvet growl.

A huge, dopy grin spread across my face. "No, I'm just…admiring the view," I insisted. He grinned smugly in response as he opened his eyes, blinking at me lazily. "I can practically feel your ego growing," I teased, though my ridiculous smile ruined the effect.

He raised an eyebrow devilishly. "I can feel something else growing too…" he murmured into my neck as he flipped positions, trapping me beneath him.

"Eventually we're going to have to get out of bed," I told him.

He groaned, pulling a pillow over his face. "No," he said, his voice muffled. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

I tried to pry it out of his hands, but it was like trying to rearrange a statue. "Come on!" I said, a giggle escaping. "Damon!"

"Well, isn't this cozy," a familiar voice drawled. I jumped, quickly wrapping a sheet around myself.

"Hey," Damon hissed. I looked over and tried to stifle a giggle, as I had just stolen his only coverage. _Get a hold of yourself_! "Sorry." I seriously need to pull myself together, I noted. I looked up at Rebekah, who was idly examining her nails, looking mildly disgusted. She looked up with open interest as Damon scrambled for some semblance of modesty. I growled, wondered what she was doing here besides ruining my perfect morning.

"Don't you have someone else to push off Wickery Bridge today?" I asked, scowling, not bothering to keep the hostility out of my tone. I honestly don't understand what she's still doing here after what she did.

"Re-_bekah_," Damon said, spitting out her name. "What brings you here? Oh, wait – I don't care." He dropped the faux smile. "Get out."

"Shan't," the blonde responded blithely, ignoring both of our jabs. "We've got a problem."

Damon sighed and reached for the pair of black drawstring pants he – I – had discarded on the floor last night. "Yeah, it's that _you're still here_." He tossed me his V-neck. I gratefully slipped it over my head, seeing as the rest of my clothes were…indisposed. To say the least.

"Sorry to interrupt your little…whatever this is," Rebekah said, sounding as if she wasn't sorry at all. "Thought you'd like to know…" she paused, clearly savoring the effect of her words.

"Get on with it, Barbie," he snapped. "Before I break your neck."

"I'd like to see you try," she scoffed. Her expression grew serious. "Syrena is back," she said quickly, looking only at Damon.

"Syrena? Damon, what – " I said in confusion.

"Last I heard, she's otherwise occupied, Princess," he said to Rebekah, though there was an undercurrent of worry in his tone. "No one ever told you that?"

She sped across the room until they were inches apart. Though it was obviously nothing romantic, I felt jealousy beginning to stir in the pits of my stomach. "I have about a thousand years older on you, pretty boy, so I'd say I know quite a bit more about a 700 year old vampirethan you do," she hissed.

"What is going on?!" I demanded, jumping up to pull Damon away.

Rebekah looked at me and smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know," she drawled annoyingly. Anger flooded through me, but before I could lay a hand on her, she had me by the throat. "Why does no one remember that I'm an Original?" she wondered out loud. I grunted, trying to breathe. I didn't technically need the oxygen, but it _was_ somewhat uncomfortable.

"Let go of her before I decide to stake you," Damon growled. Rebekah let go of me, and I inhaled. She rolled her eyes. "So touchy." She looked at me disdainfully. "Annoying little doppelganger."

"Original Bitch," I shot back before I could stop myself.

She raised her eyebrows. "Guess the little kitten finally got claws." Her eyes cut back to Damon, who looked as if he wanted to douse her in vervain. "I'll call you later. Klaus wants to…" Her eyes flickered towards me again. "Talk," she finished.

"We're not going to listen to the Original Bastard," he called after her.

"Damon, what's going on? Who's Syrena?" I asked after she left.

"Hopefully someone you'll never meet," he answered.

It was my turn to quirk an eyebrow. "Rebekah seems to think I will."

"Rebekah doesn't know shit."

* * *

**DAMON**

One normal day. That's all I'm asking for. One normal goddamn fucking day in this town. I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. As far as I know, Syrena was a hot but dangerously unstable vampire who went on some insane killing spree sometime in the 17th century. That normally wouldn't matter, but apparently she'd gone after vampires. I guess humans weren't doing it for her anymore. Ergo, she got confined to a mental hospital like a human since no one likes to be cannibalized. Though I wouldn't be surprised if some vamps were working in that hospital just to keep an eye on her after she escaped in the 1920's. Last I heard, someone caught her again in the 1930s and she's now locked away in her own mind by the means of some witchy voodoo. She was hardly in the position to break out, let alone remember what or who she was. At least, that's what I gleaned from the last 80 years or so of idle gossip.

I explained the bulk of it to Elena, trying to reassure her as much as I could. It was useless – she was already freaking out.

"Elena, it's okay. I'm sure Rebekah's shit-stirring for the hell of it. There's no way she escaped," I said with more certainty than I felt. "We don't even know if it has anything to do with us." Barbie was a lot of things (annoying and irritating come to mind) but she didn't usually run around making crap up for no reason.

"We have to tell Stefan," she insisted. "And Caroline, and Bonnie –" And the rest of the Scooby gang, I added mentally. Typical Elena. Of course her first instinct would be to start trying to everyone other than herself. "If there's even the slightest chance Syrena could cause any of them harm, they have to know about it," she plowed on, reading the skepticism in my expression.

"I can't wait," I said grimly.

"Damon, I know it's complicated between the three of us right now, but – "

"It's not that. Stefan already knows her," I said, cutting her off before she dove into the finer nuances of our slightly less-fucked-up triangle.

Elena stopped, wrinkling her brow. "How?"

* * *

"You _dated _her?" Elena repeated incredulously. "You actually dated her?"

Stefan opened his mouth defensively, but I cut to the chase. "Slept with her, I'm guessing," I said somewhat gleefully. It's so rare Saint Stefan has to air his dirty laundry, and for some reason mine seems to be on permanent display. So I'm kind of…well. I'm abso-fucking-lutely delighted.

He looked extremely uncomfortable. "It was in the 20s," he tried, waving a hand. "You know what I was like back then!" I rolled my eyes. That is the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard. What, he really wanted to go with the _Remember everyone when I was a Ripper all the shit I did gets excused because I now brood about it daily? _He crossed his arms, brow furrowed once again. It's a good thing vampires don't get wrinkles or he'd need some serious Botox by now. "And I didn't know her history," he finished. "It was just – "

" - a quickie?" I interjected. Tyler snickered, though he quickly stopped when Caroline turned to glare at him in disapproval. Pussy. At least someone gets my jokes. I'm so underappreciated.

"Let him explain," Caroline insisted, ever the mascot of Team Stefan. She should just buy a T-shirt emblazoned with his name. Save her all the trouble of jumping to his defense every single time.

Stefan sighed and ran a hand through his overly gelled hair. The amount of styling product he uses makes my supply of blood bags look sparse. He sank into an armchair by the fireplace, looking at the logs as he spoke.

"It was 1927. I was…going through a rough period. My emotions were off. I met Syrena at a speakeasy one night. I was drunk. She was…beautiful." Surprisingly, Elena didn't even flinch. I grinned, ignoring the fact that it was an admittedly inappropriate time to resemble a jester. "One thing led to the next, and…" His voice dropped off, and he looked up at all of his. "She was a little weird, but I didn't…anyway. Look, you need to know something about her. She can use compulsion on other vampires."

"What?" Caroline blurted. "That's impossible."

"No, I know it sounds crazy, but it's true," Stefan insisted. "It's how she convinced other vampires to kill for her."

"Just because you couldn't say no, brother, doesn't mean –" I started.

"No, Damon, I've seen her do it to other vampires!" Stefan said heatedly. "I couldn't do anything at the time, but – "

I raised an eyebrow. "Was that night a threesome? Anything else you wanna share?"

Rebekah cut in before Stefan could punch me. As if he could even land one on me. Bunny blood does not a predator make. "She's not an Original, which means she can't compel other vampires. And as far as I know, I don't have a long-lost sister."

"She sounds like a whack job," I put in.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Bonnie snapped. I swear all she and her entire line of witches do is work their creepy ass magic to try and rip my fucking brains out. I think it entertains them.

I glanced over at Elena, who had remained nearly silent for the entire conversation thus far. She smiled at me weakly. "It's a lot to take in," she noted. I'm about three seconds from kicking everyone out and whisking her back to bed. Or the shower. Or the couch. Or –

"It's okay, Elena," Stefan said earnestly, moving closer. I wanted to toss his martyred ass across the room. "We'll take care of it." My blood boiled at his protective, oh-so-_sensitive _tone.

"Stefan, no. Just don't," Elena responded as she instinctively drew away. He sat back, looking all hurt and kicked-puppy-esque. I'm so fucking sick of that look. He's been wearing it for the past 150 years. Someone needs to tell him to mix it up a little. I mean, I guess he had that whole Ripper phase. At least that was more interesting.

"Please don't treat me like I can't handle what's going on," Elena said.

"Elena, I just want to protect you," Saint Stefan said. He might as well vow to protect his lady, since apparently he's stuck in the Middle Ages.

She sighed. "I know. But I don't need that anymore." There was a hint of annoyance creeping into her tone, and I could tell she was trying not to lose it.

Tyler coughed awkwardly. "Um…could you guys maybe do this later?" he asked. Clearly the rest of the room had caught on to the tension between them. Caroline was shifting uncomfortably. Damn. I was hoping she'd go straight for his jugular. Someone else besides me needs to be on the receiving end of that Petrova wrath.

Stefan cleared his throat. "Of course. Sorry." Yeah, okay. When is he not sorry about something? He's sorry for making me turn. He's sorry for killing all those people he fed on. He's sorry that Elena's a vampire. How about, stop fucking up and doing shit you're going be _sorry_ about later?

"Could we focus on what we actually came here for?" Rebekah said. "I don't just hang out with you for shits and giggles." I idly wondered if she had anything else to do. Hell, we're probably the closest thing she has to _friends. _

Not that I can talk, since my only friend had succumbed to a freaky alter ego and died. I drummed my fingers, itching for a glass of alcohol. I fucking miss him. Good old Ric. He was one of the only people who could keep me sane. Actually, he _was_ the only one - I wouldn't exactly say Elena kept me sane. More like the opposite, what with all the sexual tension and general mindfucking that seem to be a package deal with her. I love her so much no one in their right mind would call it 'comfortable.' But Ric - he was comfort. He was the guy you went to at the end of the day to have a drink with. He was the steady one in an epicenter of madness. He was my friend. And if anyone tries to sit their ass in his seat at the Grill, I will light their fucking face on fire.

"No, you've got Matt for that, right?" Tyler commented, interrupting my mental eulogy.

"Watch it, werewolf," the blonde snapped. Huh. Barbie always did have a thing for Donovan. Interesting way to show it, driving him off the bridge and all. That really gets a guy going. Nothing like almost-death-by-drowning to turn him on.

"Could we all just calm down?" Elena said anxiously. I tried to restrain myself from snaking an arm around her. She said she'd wanted to tell Stefan 'at the right time,' though I was all for throwing a surprise party. We were standing so close I felt like my skin was fizzing with pent-up energy. I'm really fucking horny right now.

**ELENA**

Damon's elbow brushed mine. I inhaled, trying to stay in control. I should be worried about Syrena, or Klaus even – I was, just a minute ago (he can't possibly happy about me being a vampire) – but God, I can't think when he's this close to me. My hands clenched into fists. Okay. I can do this. I just have to get through this, and _then _I can –

Stop. Focus. I tried to concentrate on what Rebekah was saying. My fingernails dug into my palms.

" – and your witch can figure out who put the original spell on Syrena and if it's still in effect." The blonde turned to Bonnie. "You seem to be related to half the witches in the world, so I'm sure whoever it will turn out to be your great-great-aunt or something."

"It doesn't work that way," Bonnie insisted through gritted teeth. "I can't just – "

"Bore someone else with the details," Rebekah interrupted. "Well…as lovely as this has been, I'm off. I seem to be getting a bit hungry," she said, smirking at Bonnie.

"I wouldn't go there," Damon warned her casually. "Unless you want your brain dripping out your ears." He cocked his head. "Actually, go ahead. I'd love to see that."

"What about Gloria?" I asked. "She would probably know something."

Damon nodded. "I'm overdue for a visit, anyway."

I turned to him. "I'll go with you." A brief smile slid over his lips, lighting up his eyes like summer lightning. I fought the impulse to kiss him.

Before he could say anything, Stefan spoke up. "It's too dangerous."

"I'm a vampire," I snapped.

"And you're not fully used to it yet," he shot back.

"Relax, baby brother," Damon said lazily. "She'll be fine." I smiled at the confidence in his tone. He was the only person who understood how good it felt to be useful for a change, instead of the one always in need of protection. Or the human blood bag for Klaus's hybrids.

"Looks like we're going on a road trip," Damon whispered in my ear. I shivered. I really need to get this under control. Though I suspected it was as much his fault as it was it was mine. My emotions were definitely heightened, but he clearly took every chance he saw to undermine my control.

Not that I'm complaining.

* * *

_I've got emotion_  
_Dripping out my pores and I_  
_Thought I would let you know_  
_You are the night light,_  
_Ripping through my wicked world_  
_How you make it sparkle and glow,_  
_Before I lose control_  
_There's just one thing you should know_

_This is for real, this time I mean it_  
_I'm coming clean, please don't let go_  
_I said from the start, that you could take it or leave it_  
_I'd prefer that you keep it_  
_Don't let go_

_- This Is For Real by Motion City Soundtrack_

* * *

**Thank you all for the reviews/alerts/favorites! I love them all. Please keep them coming, they mean a lot x**


	6. Chapter 5

**Last night's episode was insane, so I had to work it into this (SPOILER for 4x15). Thank you for your reviews and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**ELENA**

"Elena, are you almost ready?" Damon yelled from across the hall.

"I'm right here," I called back. "Just finishing up."

"How long does it take to pack for a two-day trip?"

I paused to scowl at him before returning to folding a sweater into my suitcase. "You tell me. You're the one who gets pissy when your V-necks get wrinkled."

"It looks sloppy," he retorted as he zipped his duffel and walking over to me. I tried to push the top of the suitcase down enough to close it. He stood behind me and ran a hand down my arm. "Can I tempt you to take a break?" he breathed into my ear.

I shivered. "I thought you were telling me to hurry up," I said, laughing.

"I got distracted," Damon murmured into my hair. His lips brushed my neck.

"We're supposed to – " He kissed my jaw. I swallowed. "Um…I mean…" His hand lightly touched my hip, just under the hem of my shirt. "I thought we had to – " I tried again as he pushed my suitcase aside and I fell back onto the bed. "-leave," I gasped.

He chuckled. "Minor delay."

* * *

**DAMON**

"Why can't we just stake her?" I asked. We were all gathered together like the fucking Brady Bunch, trying to come up with the same kind of idiotic scheme that we usually do. Fuck Rebekah for calling this meeting. Elena and I were just about to leave when she'd shown up with the Scooby gang in tow, going on about how we had to come up with a plan to get rid of the psychotic bitch before she could cause any damage. Point taken.

Rebekah raised an eyebrow. "Because she's 700 years old. Her pinky is stronger than you."

I winced at the comparison. Let's not exaggerate here. "We've staked Elijah before, and he's an Original," I pointed out. I pretended to think for a moment. "And – oh, right. We've staked you too." I smirked.

"I remember," Barbie retorted, turning to glare at Elena. "Backstabber. Literally," she spat.

Elena stared back at her levelly. "Like you're really in a position to judge me for that?" she asked. I grinned. I love it when she's feisty.

Rebekah inhaled, not bothering to respond. "Look, my point is that you were only able to stake me because you got close enough for me to trust you," she said, looking as if she'd rather swim in a pool of vervain than hold this conversation. I wondered if she was actually hurt that Elena had tricked her or if she was more upset about missing the chance to be Prom Queen. Probably the latter, I decided.

Elena looked confused. "Why can't we just do the same thing? Or you could do it, you're older and technically stronger," she added.

"First of all," Barbie began, "she doesn't have a normal emotional capacity. So she's not going to be prone to the same emotional tricks you like to employ," she said pointedly. "Syrena's not going to be your new best friend just because you're nice to her. Even if she wanted to, I don't think she could. She's unpredictable, and that's how we have to treat her."

In other words, the girl is completely fucking insane. That's fucking great. I always like a little dose of crazy in my morning blood bag.

"And she very possibly has remnants of the magic used to bind her still clinging to her. We don't know how that could affect the person who tries to kill her."

Ah. "So that's the reason you're not risking getting close to her," I surmised.

She shrugged. "That and I don't actually really care what happens to you." Touche.

"But you do care," Elena said. "Or you wouldn't be here. She can compel you too, Rebekah. Meaning she could compel you to kill yourself. Or Klaus, even," she went on shrewdly.

"Or even Donovan," I suggested laconically. "I know you've got a little soft spot for him." I leaned in conspiratorially. "News flash – I think you've ruined your chances." I paused for a moment as Barbie seethed. "Or she could just eat you."

* * *

**ELENA**

_She's got a lot of affection in her eyes _

_And the way that she might look at you_

_Could turn you into ice_

_- Harlot by Misun_

"What the hell - ?" Damon exclaimed.

A slender redhead with waist-length waves was perched on Damon's bed, long legs daintily crossed. She tilted her head as we came in, tossing aside the book she'd been reading. Craning my neck, I noticed it was Damon's copy of _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_.

"So this is the other Salvatore brother," she said with interest. Her voice was girlishly high, with the barest hint of a French accent. She looked almost younger than me. I didn't know what I had been expecting – some drooling, deranged vampire? – but she definitely wasn't it. She unfolded herself and got up, circling around Damon as if he was an object on display. I felt Damon tense under her curiously feline gaze.

"You must be Syrena," Damon said cautiously, trying to figure out her state of mind. She seemed normal enough to me, but there was an odd sense of unbalance, as if she were about to become unhinged at any moment. As if anything could set her off.

I edged closer to Damon. She turned to me. I tried not to falter under her intense scrutiny. "And Elena," she remarked, as if admiring a pretty flower.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my composure. "How do you know my name?"

She sighed melodramatically. "I know, I know. I'm not supposed to be here," Syrena said, rolling her eyes mischievously. She looked for all the world like a teenage girl breaking curfew. Suddenly, her eyes – shimmering like emeralds before – turned oddly opaque. "But I don't like it back there," she whispered, sinking back down onto the bed and hugging her knees to her chest.

Damon and I glanced at each other warily, unsure of what to do. She looked straight as me. "Help me," she said softly. Her voice was so melodious, strangely hypnotic. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was help her. "Stay there," she said to Damon. I knew the words were odd, but they seemed strangely insignificant to me. She looked so sad, her tiny frame caved inwards. I took a step forward. I heard Damon cry out, but his warning was lost in the sweet, pale fog swirling around my mind, wrapping itself into my consciousness.

"Elena, stop," Rebekah said from behind me, her voice shaking me out of the stupor. I shook my head, dazed. I heard Damon exhale in relief as I regained my bearings.

The redhead pouted, jumping to her feet. "Bekah! Why did you go and ruin all my fun? I wasn't even compelling her," she pouted in her lilting voice. She turned back towards me longingly. "I've never tasted doppelganger blood," Syrena added plaintively as if she were being denied a delicious treat. She dropped her voice enticingly as I stared at her. "It won't be in her system much longer, come on Bex, just let me have a taste…" What the - ? I am not a freaking cupcake!

"That doesn't work on me," Rebekah snapped. "I know what you're like, remember?" Syrena frowned, stomping her foot. "I'm hungry!" she wailed, resembling a child gearing up for a tantrum. Suddenly, she sniffed the air. "Is that…human I smell?" she asked brightly, her mood flipping again. "No, it's different…ooh, it's a bit…muskier…oh my. It's _hunter," _she realized. "_Mmm_." She sped towards the door in a flurry, quick even to my vampire eyes.

"Oh my God. Jeremy!" I sucked in a breath. The three of us bolted after her. I barely had time to register the fact that Rebekah was actually helping us before we stopped in front of the library.

"Bloody hell," Rebekah breathed. The room was a mess, Jeremy having clearly put up a fight. Syrena was bent over his neck, drinking deeply. She threw back her head, moaning in ecstasy. She stared at us as we rushed in and grinned, her pearly white teeth stained crimson. "_Don't move_." I gasped, frozen in place. Blood dripped from her fangs, and she slowly licked her lips, presumably savoring the taste.

I felt as if I were imprisoned into someone else's body, hopelessly paralyzed.

Syrena opened her eyes and blinked at us. "Did you want some?" she asked politely. I almost threw up in revulsion. She frowned as none of us responded. "Well, _talk_ then, I guess."

"Syrena," Rebekah said steadily, the first to regain her voice. "Let him go."

The elfin redhead sighed. "But he's so yummy," she said, preparing to bite him again. Jeremy's head lolled to the side. For a moment my heart jumped to my throat, but I realized I could still hear his heart beating. Painfully slowly, but it was there.

"_Please_," I croaked. "Don't do this."

Her eyes flickered towards me. "What if I don't want to stop?" she asked, her voice suddenly cold, the joy fading from her face. I shivered.

"Let. Him. Go!" I snarled, trying to rip myself free. It felt like my forehead had slammed into a brick wall. I reeled from the backlash.

"I will boot your ass back to the institution you crawled out of," Damon snarled viciously.

Syrena rose with interest, dropping Jeremy carelessly to the floor. "I heard you were the hot-blooded brother," she mused. Her red lips suddenly curled into a smile. "I kind of like you," she purred, reaching out to touch his chest.

I hissed angrily from my imprisoned stance. Her eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh, you're together," she said. "I thought you were with his brother." She frowned slightly, tilting her head in genuine confusion. "But what's wrong? Don't you like to share?"

Rebekah barked out an incredulous laugh. "Sorry," she said. "But you don't know how ironic that is."

"Don't touch me," Damon growled. She withdrew her hand in surprise, looking hurt. "God, you're so mean," she complained. Her eyebrows knitted together. "Do you always like it like that?" Syrena was kneeling beside my brother in a flash just as he began to wake up. She wrenched him up, lifting his throat to her fangs.

"NO!" I yelled uselessly, struggling against the compulsion as Damon tried to lunge after her. Pain seared through my mind as I pushed fruitlessly. The ties bounding me flexed slightly as I tried to break through them. For one glorious moment I thought I was free – and then it was like a slingshot, a rubber band stretched so far that it snapped back into me. It felt as though the sheer force should have pushed me back, but my body didn't move. I screamed in frustration.

Syrena dropped Jeremy to the ground, his head hitting the floor with a dull thud. His eyes stared blankly out at nothing, his ring glimmering in the weak rays of sunlight. "Noisy little thing, aren't you?"

**DAMON**

An animalistic sound tore out of Elena as she struggled against the compulsion. I wanted to tear the psychotic bitch limb from skinny limb. "You fucking sociopath," I spat.

"Damon," Rebekah murmured urgently. "Damon!"

"What?!" I snapped, red flooding into my vision. I am going to fucking dis_member _that schizophrenic elf.

"Calm down," she hissed as quietly as she could manage. Syrena was draped contently across Jeremy's body as if he was a towel and she was sunbathing on the beach. She blinked vacantly at the ceiling, a faint smile lingering on her face. I turned my head to look at her incredulously, the only part of my entire fucking body I could move. Calm down? That deranged little pixie just killed Elena's brother. AKA the only family she has left. I will calm down when I want to fucking calm down.

Barbie widened her eyes meaningfully. She looked like she wanted to tell me something, but I'm not really in the mood to decipher cryptic facial expressions. She sighed when I didn't respond. "Damon, you need to be nice to her," Rebekah said softly.

"Oh yeah. I'd love to go comfort here, but I'm a little bit stuck right now," I snapped.

"Not Elena. _Syrena_."

That's it. She's fucking lost it. Great. _Two _crazy bitches. Just what I need.

"Damon, listen to me," she continued.

I glanced over at Elena, who was staring straight ahead with an eerie calm. "Spit it out, Blondie."

"She likes you," Rebekah said as if explaining something extremely obvious. "You're probably the only one who can convince her to let us go."

I laughed in disbelief. "You want me to _flirt _with the crazy vamp who just killed my girlfr-…" I broke off. "My…Elena's brother?" The irony of this situation is killing me.

She nodded, dead serious. "I thought she wasn't even able to form basic emotions. Now you're telling me to _befriend _her?" Jesus Christ. I always knew my general physical flawlessness was going to backfire on me someday. I tried to gather the anger that was still pulsing through me and shove it into some corner of my mind. Like in a box marked TO DEAL WITH LATER.

"Syrena?" I asked as sweetly as I could. I wish I could dunk her into a vat of vervain. Like an Oreo. And leave her there.

She perked up immediately. I groaned internally. Looked like Barbie was right. "Yes?"

"Could you let us move now?" I managed. My gums ached as I tried to keep myself together.

"Oh! Of course," the redhead responded cheerfully. "You only had to ask." The invisible bounds vanished, and I stumbled forward along with Elena and Rebekah.

"We did," Rebekah muttered darkly.

Elena ran to Jeremy's side. "Jer," she whispered. "It's going to be okay."

I frowned. What? "Elena," I said gently. "He's – "

"No, look, he was wearing his ring!" Elena said forcefully. "He's going to wake up. I'm going to wait with him."

I paused. Technically, he was a supernatural being. He was a hunter, after all. Elena had scooped him up already and had turned to leave. Denial glittered harshly in her eyes. I should know that expression. Stefan wears it every single fucking day. My gut twisted. There has to be something I can do. I have to – I _need_ to help her. For my sake as much as hers.

"Elena – " I tried again. Living in denial was the metaphorical equivalent of slapping a piece of Scotch tape onto cracking tectonic plates. Again, something I would know. She ignored me, turning her attention to Syrena. "I will _kill_ you," she spat, enunciating each word before rushing off.

Syrena looked at me. "She's mean too but you like _her_," she said plaintively. "I don't understand."

Holy shit. She's like a two-year-old and fucking Mephistopheles rolled into one.

* * *

**ELENA**

I laid Jeremy carefully onto his bed. It should only be a few hours. Six, at the most. I knelt by his side and took his hand.

I waited.

Thirty minutes later, Stefan and Caroline came in, knocking gently at the door. "I can hear you," I told them tonelessly without turning around. "Vampire hearing, remember?"

I could feel them exchanging looks. Probably filled with concern and pity. Poor Elena, she doesn't even know that her brother's dead.

"Hey. How're you holding up?" Stefan asked gently.

"I'm fine."

Caroline knelt down next to me. She took a deep breath. "Elena, Jeremy's a hunter." She paused, waiting for me to say something. I didn't. "He's supernatural." I said nothing. Caroline bit her lip and looked at Stefan, who shook his head silently. Slowly, she got up. They gently closed the door, their footsteps fading slightly as they retreated into the kitchen.

I went back to waiting.

* * *

"Don't you think you should tell her?" Caroline was saying. Stefan turned on the faucet, but I could still hear.

"She's not ready," came Stefan's answer. "This is her way of dealing with this."

"This is _not _dealing with it! Sitting up there with Jeremy's body is _not _a normal way to 'deal!'" Caroline cried, her voice breaking.

I couldn't take it anymore. I went down to the kitchen. Upon seeing me, their eyes immediately lit up with concern. "Do you think I'm an idiot?" I asked quietly.

"No, Elena, of course not – " They both jumped in, their voices sliding in and out of my mind indistinguishably.

"I know he's supernatural. I know – I know it _shouldn't_ work. I know that, okay? But there's a chance. It's miniscule, but it's there. And you're just ignoring that," I said heatedly.

They were silent. "Okay, Elena," Stefan finally said softly. "You're right. There's a chance."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I turned on my heel and went back to Jeremy's room. I took his hand again. It was so cold, I realized. But it was cold last time too, and he still came back, I reminded myself. I gripped it with both of my own. _Come back, Jer,_ I pleaded silently. _Please come back_.

* * *

The front door opened, and someone stepped inside. I could tell it was Damon. There was an indistinct conversation that I couldn't quite make out, most likely due to the garbage disposal one of them had turned on. Probably Stefan. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and the bedroom door opened. Damon stood there, panting. "Elena?" he asked. His eyes were smoldering like flickers of white-hot fire.

"Damon," I breathed, unable to help myself at the sight of him. I ran to his arms, burying my face into his chest. "Jeremy – " I choked out.

"I know," he said softly, stroking my hair. We stood like that for a few moments. I held him as tightly as I could, as if he could provide me with some comfort I couldn't find alone. He could, in a way that no one else ever had. "Elena," he said, gently untangling himself and drawing back enough to look at me. His eyes were softer than I had ever seen them before. "Jeremy's not coming back."

I stood there, numb.

"Do you understand?" Damon asked, his voice heartbreakingly tender. "He's gone."

The realization crashed over me. It had been 7 hours. I felt like I was crumbling apart, slowly disintegrating into a thousand mismatched pieces. Suddenly, the smell hit my nostrils, an overwhelmingly cloying stench. I turned to Damon in delayed understanding. "How long has he been like this?" I demanded as my hand flew to my mouth. Pain flared throughout my entire body, lighting my veins on fire. "How did I not see it?" I whispered to myself.

The coldness of logic began to set in like a soothing balm. Like a numbing injection at the dentist's. You can't feel anything even though your mouth is a bloody mess and someone is literally detaching your tooth from your gums. They're ripping through a bunch of tiny little tendons, but you just can't feel it.

It was like a fucking band-aid for the deep, hollow hole raging its way through my chest.

"Elena – " Damon began to protest as I gathered my brother up and pushed by him.

"I have to do this," I said to the stairs, blowing by Caroline and Stefan. She turned to me, blue eyes wide with confusion. "What are you doing?" she asked as I rummaged blindly through the cabinets after placing Jeremy on the couch. _Not Jeremy. His body_. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing back the stinging tears. There wasn't time for crying. People would start to wonder. We needed a plausible story.

And a way to get rid of the body. I found what I was looking for and started haphazardly squirting the lighter fluid onto every surface I could reach.

"Oh my God," Caroline said as realization kicked in. I was glad to see her reflexes had been faster than mine.

"Elena, don't do this!" Stefan said loudly.

"I have to." I moved mechanically, covering everything I saw with liquid.

"This is your home!"

I didn't bother stopping. "We need a way to get rid of the body," I repeated out loud.

"We can find another way," Damon cut in.

I shook my head. "This is the best. All of it, gone." I gritted my teeth. "There's no more room in the Gilbert plot," I said, laughing bitterly. "Jon took the last spot." My voice rose higher. "My mom, my dad, Jenna. It's full!"

"You're going to want – " Stefan started.

I whirled around. "Want what, Stefan? My family? My house? There is nothing left for me here," I yelled. "I don't need this. I don't need my history book, or a coffee table, or a fucking throw pillow." I doused everything I had just named and grabbed a match, striking it against the flint. I watched as a spark flared to life, a single flame flickering on the thin wooden stick.

"Don't do this, Elena," Stefan implored softly. A tear escaped, rolling down my cheek and bursting onto the corner of my mouth. I tasted salt. For a moment I wondered if I was making a mistake. If they were right, and I would want this back. There were so many memories here, woven and intertwined into every inch, every fiber of this house. A phantom of my mother's laugh echoing through the halls, Jeremy's favorite cereal sitting half-eaten in the cabinet, the permanently sticky shelf of the fridge where Dad used to keep his beer. My hand shook slightly. The flame, having burned its way down the wood, licked my hand. The physical pain shocked me and I automatically dropped it.

Stefan caught it before it could land on the soaked floor. I sank to my knees, a deep sob escaping my throat. It felt like the pain was devouring me from the inside out, burning its way through every single nerve. My muscles contracted so tightly I bit my tongue.

**DAMON**

She stood still for a moment before falling to her knees. "I can't do this," she cried. My stomach clenched at the sight of her in so much pain. Paralysis numbed my muscles. Everything seemed so impossible, and yet I could see the tears on her face, hear the cries emanating from her throat. At that moment I wished so much that it was me in her place. Because she didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to lose her entire fucking family while I stood by, not able to do a damn thing about it.

Stefan nudged me. "Damon," he whispered, nodding towards her. I turned to look at him, confused. "She needs you."

Mobility flooded me, and I dropped to my knees beside her. "Elena. Shh…it's okay," I said. "I'll help you get through this. You _will_ get through this."

She turned towards me, her eyes a cesspool of pain and twisted emotions, glimmering with tears. "How, Damon? How will I get through this?" she demanded. "I. Can't. Do. This. Do you get that?"

I flinched as though she had slapped me. There was only one thing left to do. She had to turn her emotions off. Even if it meant she couldn't love me afterwards. I can't let her grieve this deeply just because I still want her to _feel_ for _me_. I can't be selfish with her. I tipped her chin up. "Elena, listen to me. Turn it off," I said quietly. Behind me, Stefan's brows drew together. I nodded, answering his silent question.

She hiccupped, her doe eyes filling with uncertainty. "Turn it off," I repeated. "Turn it off." She stared at me for another second, and then something changed in her eyes. I could almost hear it click, as if her internal gears had just changed places.

**ELENA**

I stared at him. It suddenly seemed like the practical solution. I could feel it, the switch, waiting behind the abyss of pain flooding every sense. It beckoned gently, and I could feel myself sliding towards it. It seemed so easy, so simple. "Turn it off." I absorbed the words, letting them settle into my mind, swathing every sensation like white gauze. It was the only way out of the hell I was feeling right now.

So I took it.

_Today I would learn_  
_the art of leaving earth_  
_the calculus of sin_  
_and salvation_

_The war I waged with death_  
_was far above my head,_  
_the winds of Heaven met_  
_the gates of Hell._  
_The angels sang eternally,_  
_while the demons were encouraging_  
_all that was inside of me_  
_to give up hope._

_This is how it feels_

_- Paper Ghost by Courrier_


	7. Chapter 6

___I have (I have) you breathing down my neck (breathing down my neck)  
I don't (don't know) what you could possibly expect under this condition so  
I'll wait (I'll wait) for the ambulance to come (ambulance to come)  
Pick us up off the floor  
What did you possibly expect under this condition _

___We were boxing  
We were boxing the stars  
We were boxing (we were boxing)  
You were swinging for Mars  
And then the water reached the West Coast  
And took the power lines (the power lines)  
And it was me and you  
And the whole town under water  
There was nothing we could do_

___-Dark Blue by Jack's Mannequin_

**ELENA**

I lit a second match and stared at it for a moment.

"Don't do this," Stefan pleaded again.

"I have to," I said, dropping the match. Fire blazed throughout the entire room, burnt orange flames flickering everywhere. I calmly made my way out with Caroline, Stefan, and Damon. As I passed through the living room, the burning remains of my diary briefly caught my eye.

I didn't bother stopping. The worn little book held no more significance to me than the shattered, melting photo of Jeremy and I. Something flickered vaguely inside me as I recalled the image of our faces pressed together, grinning for the camera. I ignored it, stepping out of the house. It was done with, in the past, over.

Barely worth a second glance.

* * *

"How do you feel?" Caroline asked tentatively. It was the morning after I set my house on fire. We were gathered around Damon's living room. He was in his favorite armchair by the fire and I was sprawled out carelessly on the couch.

I frowned slightly, squinting against the bright rays of sunlight filtering in through the arched windows. "Like I just burned myself and I'm waiting for the pain to come but it doesn't," I summarized.

Stefan and Damon exchanged looks. "What?" I asked out of reflex, not really caring what they were thinking. "My point is that I don't actually feel the pain."

"Nothing," Stefan said quickly. I moved to the corner of the couch, out of the sunlight, and twisted off my ring.

"What are you doing?" Caroline asked nervously.

I shrugged, tossing it up in the air and catching it. "Nothing. I'm bored." There was a dull ache pounding vaguely in the back of my head. "So are we going to just sit here watching me all day?" I asked.

"What do you want to do?" Damon asked.

I thought about it, replacing the ring on my finger and twisting it around in circles.

"What happened to Syrena?" I asked.

"She left," Damon answered simply. "For now," he added.

"Are you still going to see Gloria?" He nodded. "When are you leaving?"

"I wasn't sure…" His voice trailed off. Anxiety crossed his face for less than a second.

I tossed my hair back over my shoulders. "Well, tell me when you figure it out."

"You're still going?" Caroline interjected. "Do you really think that's the best idea?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked her blankly.

"Because you're…well, you know." She motioned with her hands.

I raised an eyebrow. "Because I turned off my emotions?"

"Well…yeah," she admitted.

"If anything, that just makes me less of a liability. I won't fall to pieces every time someone I love is killed, which seems to be every other day." I got up and stretched. "I want blood."

"You know where the blood bags are," Damon said. His tone was carefully blithe, and I could tell he was trying not to say something else.

"They're stale." Damon rose as well. "I didn't ask for company," I said sharply.

His eyes narrowed. "Too bad."

"Elena…" Caroline said, catching my sleeve. I stared at her hand, and she hastily withdrew it. "Just…don't kill anyone, okay?" she asked.

"Why not?"

Caroline looked at me as if I was insane. "Because…it's wrong. You don't need to!"

I headed out without responding. It's not that I want to kill people for no reason. I'm just saying, if I'm hungry, I'm not going to stop feeding. Why should I?

Damon caught up with me easily. "You sure you're good?" he asked.

"No." I looked at him, taking in the dark lock of hair that fell into his eyes. There were dark rings surrounding the bright blue of his irises. Even now, with a sheath of ice surrounding my heart, his eyes were strangely magnetic. I felt oddly tingly.

Maybe it's because I've never felt lust without love before.

I could remember why I loved him. It wasn't like I had lost my memory. I remembered what his lips felt like pressed against mine. I know that before Jeremy died, he was the center of my world, and being with him felt safe and dangerous and thrilling and orgasmic all at once. I know why I'm not supposed to kill people or set houses on fire. I know I'm supposed to hold my shit together enough to at least slightly resemble the old Elena.

But I just don't care. It feels like it was someone else's life. Not even someone I cared that much about, but like an acquaintance I knew but hadn't really liked.

It was odd, knowing what I should feel like and yet not feeling anything at all. I hesitated at the front door. Stefan and Caroline were talking about me. I wonder why they still treat me like a human when I'm not.

"I don't know if that was the right thing to do," Caroline was saying worriedly.

Stefan sighed. "Her humanity was what defined her. Without it, I don't know what – "

I snorted, loudly enough for Caroline and Stefan to realize I was still in the house. "So that's the only facet of my personality worth noting?" I asked. I crossed my arms. "My humanity. Huh." I trailed my hand over the banister. Dust clung to my fingertips. "So what are you going to do now that I'm not the Elena you always expected me to be? Will you still like me?" I laughed cynically.

"Of course," Stefan said, looking pained. "You know I –"

"Oh, good. Because I'm tired of holding back," I interrupted. "I don't feel like resisting anymore. I don't want to crush every single impulse. I want to do whatever I want to when I want to do it." I picked up a half-full glass of bourbon sitting on a side table and dropped it, watching the glass shatter. "I've always wanted to do that," I said fondly. It felt like I had scratched an itch.

It was a good feeling.

"Look, Elena, you're going through a lot right now," Caroline started. "I know you have to deal with what happened. But eventually you're going to have to turn your emotions back on, and I don't want you to do anything you're going to regret."

I tilted my head. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do I ever have to turn my emotions back on?" I asked, not seeing her point. It was better this way. What was the point in suffering through an overload of emotions when all it ever caused me was pain? Now that it was muffled, I couldn't see why I would ever go back to the way it was. It felt like a huge black chasm that was waiting for me to fall back into. I wasn't going to. I was going to claw my way back from the edge until it was so far away it wouldn't even be a possibility to go back.

"You're not the only one who lost someone yesterday," Caroline said angrily. "He meant something to all of us. Not just you. God, do you even care about anyone else? Did you see Bonnie, or Matt? They loved him too! And I was standing there with you when he died, Elena."

"Yeah. You were," I said tonelessly. "What do you want from me, Caroline?"

She ran her hands through her hair in distress. She must be seriously stressed. I've never seen her mess up her hair before. "I want you to care, Elena!"

Silence hung like heavy mist in the air.

"I don't." I turned on my heel and left.

I hunted. I fed. I killed. Two, I think. Or maybe three? No, it was the guy with the glasses, then the girl with feathers in her hair, and then the blond guy. So yeah, three. The first time, Damon tried to stop me. I threw him across the parking lot. He didn't try again.

**DAMON**

Screw this. I stood up and brushed myself off, watching her feed. The expression in her eyes was just…I didn't recognize her. There was nothing of the Elena I knew in that look. I rubbed my hands over my face. But let's face it - it's not like I've never killed anyone before, so I'm not going to judge her for it. Especially now that her emotions are off. I was the one who fucking told her to turn them off, and now I'm here _worrying _like I'm a goddamn grandfather.

The thing with numbness is that it's an in-between. A band-aid, not the grand solution. I didn't think she'd want to turn her emotions off forever. Even I, arguably one of the most emotionally fucked-up vampires ever to exist, turned it back on eventually. Pain is still there, whether you feel it or not. It's why humans – even vampires – are built with pain receptors. It's a warning sign that your body's going through some shit and you'd better find some way to fix it before things get truly fucked-up.

My mind flashed back to when I had seen her kneeling on the floor of her house, in so much pain neither she nor I could stand it. If it happened again, I'd probably do exactly the same shit I did the first time.

* * *

I tossed my duffel in the backseat and slipped a pair of aviators over my eyes. "You ready?" I asked, not looking at her.

She slid in. "Ready," Elena answered.

I started the car. At least I still have my Camaro. Right now it's practically my only constant. "So what did you do to get Syrena to leave?" Elena asked after twenty minutes, breaking the silence.

I made a left. "I didn't do anything. I told her to sit tight and said I'd bring her something to eat." And then I kind of forgot about her. "When we went back, she was gone."

"So where is she now?"

I shrugged. "Tasmania? Siberia? Antarctica?" I don't fucking care, as long as it's not here.

Elena snorted. "I thought we were supposed to be keeping tabs on her."

"Oh, I'm sure she'll turn up again. She's like a bad rat infestation, she's bound to come back. Barbie thinks she has a thing for me, so we'll see." That _would _happen to me. "But we need to be prepared for her when she does decide to show up again, which is why –"

"A lot of people have a thing for you, Damon," Elena said as she looked out the window, ignoring the rest of my sentence.

"Excuse me?" I mean, I know that already. I'm irresistible, obviously.

"You have this way of…getting under people's skin," she said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment," I said sardonically. It sounds more like I'm a freaky little parasite.

"Take it how you want," she said. "I'm just telling you."

I peeked sideways at her. "Am I under _your_ skin?" I wondered. Despite my best intentions, my voice came out unmistakably flirty.

"You were," Elena answered.

God, this is so not the way I pictured this trip. I was all excited for backseat-of-the-car sex. Not a Dr. Phil session about emotional bullshit. Or in Elena's case, lack of emotional bullshit.

"What?" she asked.

Fuck. Did I say that out loud? "Nothing."

"Damon, it's still me," Elena said. She leaned over and ran a hand down my arm. Jesus. That turned me on more than the last seven blowjobs I can recall. "You of all people should know that turning off your emotions doesn't exactly turn off your sex drive…" she whispered throatily. Damn it. I pulled over before I crashed my baby and leaned my forehead over the steering wheel. I inhaled, trying to regain control despite the fact that Elena had unbuckled her seatbelt and moved closer. "Come on…" she crooned as she nibbled my ear. She smelled the same she always had, like jasmine and honey. I rolled my head around, hearing the vertebrae crack. Elena took the opportunity to kiss my neck. I felt her fangs descend, brushing against my skin without puncturing it.

"Stop," I tried to say, except it came out more like a moan. "Elena…" My voice had gone hoarse with desire.

"Do you really mean that?" she asked as she slid a hand up my shirt. She kissed my bottom lip seductively. "It doesn't have to mean anything…"

My eyes snapped open and I pushed her away. "Sorry. You can't sample the merchandise. I have a no-return policy," I informed her.

She sat back in a huff. "So you're not going to sleep with me until I turn my emotions back on?" she asked.

"Yup," I said, popping the P and restarting the engine.

"You're not being fair," Elena said. "You know I don't love anyone right now. It's not personal."

"Who said I had to be fair?" It's always personal between us. Always has been, always will be. And if she doesn't think so…well, I don't give a shit, because it's still personal to me. I said I would help her get through this. I didn't say I would screw her whenever she felt like it. As always, it doesn't seem to occur to her how much it screws with _my _mind when she does shit like this.

She narrowed her eyes stubbornly. "I want sex, Damon. It doesn't have to be with you."

My fingers were leaving an imprint in the steering wheel. "You do that," I said in as if I couldn't care any less. Oh, how much easier life would be if that were true.

* * *

Elena knelt down next to the tire, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The familiar gesture caused a stabbing pain somewhere in the vicinity of my chest. "It's a flat," she pronounced.

Not my Camaro. Not my baby. I punched the gas gun in frustration, leaving a dent. It took all the self-control I possessed not to beat the thing into a pile of twisted scrap metal.

"There's a motel right here," Elena said, nodding towards the blinking sign.

Of course there is. Of course the fucking car has a fucking flat tire and we're stuck staying in skeezy fucking motel.

We checked in. There was only one room left. Obviously. My life could not be more of a crappy movie than it already is, except I seem to be missing the happy ending part. The timing of this is so fucking ironic. Anytime in the past year I would have given my left foot to be forced into a motel room with the girl I love, and now it happens after I told said girl to turn off her emotions after the last person in her entire family died.

"Hell, no," I said when I saw the single, queen-sized bed.

"Relax," Elena said, pushing her suitcase into the corner. "It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before."

I peered into the bathroom and decided I would rather swim across the Atlantic ocean in winter than stick my body anywhere near that sketchy shower. Maybe I can buy a case of bottled water and dump it all over myself, I mused. I turned around to dig my toothbrush out of my bag and stopped at the sight of Elena. She was casually stripping off her clothes, standing there clad only in her underwear and a skimpy tank top.

"What?" she asked.

Is that a real question? She was now methodically applying lotion to her smooth, olive-toned legs.

"What are you doing?" I said through my teeth. I cannot fucking handle this. My pants were already getting tighter in the crotch. I wanted to shoot myself for being so goddamn attracted to her.

"I'm getting ready for bed," Elena said, sliding into the sheets.

"I'm sleeping in the car," I decided impulsively.

In a second, Elena was standing by the door, blocking my way out. "I don't want you to," she said, stepping closer to me. "I want you to stay here," she whispered, running her light fingers over my chest. I stiffened. I pushed her away from me, and she landed in a pile on the other side of the room.

"That was harsh," Elena complained as she stood up, rubbing her elbow. She shrugged. "You can't blame me for trying. I don't get what the big problem is."

The problem? The problem is that sex with Elena means more to me than sex with some random blonde. In fact, it means everything to me since Elena means everything to me. Which consequently means meaningless sex with her is an oxymoron. Because I can't touch her knowing it means nothing to her. I can't kiss her knowing _I_ mean nothing more to her than some random, disposable guy. I've spent too much of my life being that guy, and I'm not going back.

"I'm not going to scratch that particular itch for you, Elena," I said. "So stop trying. It isn't going to happen." I grabbed a pillow and headed back out to the car.

* * *

This car is really fucking uncomfortable to sleep in. I adjusted my position for the fifteenth thousandth time. I glanced up at Elena's window again. I knew it was the one on the second floor fourth from the right with the curtains half-drawn. My foot twitched nervously, tapping the dashboard in a frenzied rhythm. Syrena might decide to come back at any minute, or Klaus might employ some kooky witchy crap so he can get the last of her human blood for his stupid hybrids.

Fuck this. I got out of the car, taking care to lock it. I scanned the area and noticed a tree stationed near the front of the motel with a perfect vantage point.

The leaves are fucking _wet_. I wondered what the hell was going through my head when I decided it would be a good idea to climb up in this tree like a damn stalker just so I could make sure she survives the night without another supernatural disaster. She seems to be a magnet for those. I shifted again, trying not to think about what kind of crappy nature shit was staining my jeans. They're Saint Laurent, for Christ's sake.

There better not be any goddamn beetles up here.

It's fucking cold up here. I do _not_ have the disposition for this. Saint Stefan would probably resemble goddamn Romeo while I'm pretty sure someone would call the cops on my ass. I seriously hope no one can see me. I mean, if they do, I could compel them, but then there's always the possibility they could become a vampire and I'd rather just not have anyone ever see me here.

I realize I could accomplish the same thing from _inside_ the damn room, but I refuse to go back. I have my pride to protect, after all.

* * *

My phone rang, startling me out of sleep. I pressed to my ear. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Shit. Elena. I scrambled up, nearly falling out of the tree. "I'm at your car but you're not here," she said.

"Just…give me a minute," I said, stowing the phone in my back pocket and jumping down. I quickly brushed myself off to rid myself of any stray leaves and casually strolled up to my car.

Elena gave me a weird look. "Where were you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She reached over and silently took a leaf out of my hair. Fuck.

"Oh yeah, that's…" Fucking hell. There is no excuse for having a goddamn leaf in your hair unless you just had sex in the forest or you're a fucking woodland sprite.

* * *

**ELENA**

Damon pulled up to the bar. As we walked up to the door, he jumped in front of me and pulled it open. "Ladies first," he gestured with his familiar smirk.

A grin tugged at my mouth. "Why thank you, Mr. Salvatore." It was the first time I had smiled since Jeremy died. Trust Damon to be the one. The veil between us lifted slightly, and for a moment it almost felt like old times.

Almost.

Gloria was wiping a glass at the bar, her short, bleached hair shocking against her dark skin. There were no patrons present, most likely due to the early hour. "Damon Salvatore," she said, not looking up. "What brings you here?"

He took a seat on one of the leather stools. I followed suit. "What do you know about Syrena?" he asked, cutting to the chase.

She glanced up sharply. "Why are you asking?"

"She escaped," Damon answered succinctly. "And – "

" – she killed my brother," I finished for him.

Gloria stared at me. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said carefully. I nodded. "But I can't help you." She ducked under the bar and took out another set of glasses to polish.

"Why not?" Damon snapped.

"It's not my place," Gloria answered.

Damon frowned. "I thought witches were against the killing of innocents."

Her shoulders stiffened. "We are.

"So what's the problem?" I challenged.

She looked me fully in the face. "You've got a little more spark than the last time I saw you," she said, tilting her head.

"Things change," I said evasively. Not everyone needs to know my entire backstory.

"Just tell me what you know and I'll be out of your hair," Damon insisted.

Gloria considered this. "All right. But I can't help you," she warned. "I can only tell you what I know."

Damon drummed his fingers impatiently against the bar. "I feel like I'm going to need some fortification before I hear this," he said as a way of asking for alcohol. Gloria poured him a measure of whiskey and leaned her elbows against the bar without offering me anything.

"One cannot kill her without transferring her curse to themselves."

She was blunt, I'll give her that.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews! Please continue x**


	8. Chapter 7

_Oh, oblivion._  
_is calling out your name_  
_You always take it further,_  
_than I ever can_

_When you play it harder,_  
_and I try to follow you there,_  
_It's not about control,_  
_But I turn back when I see where you go_

_-Oblivion by Bastille_

* * *

**DAMON**

Caroline and Stefan were huddled near the fireplace when we got back to the boarding house. I poured a glass of whiskey and took a huge gulp, letting the alcohol burn my throat. Sometimes I wonder if I would be a complete alcoholic without the vamp metabolism. "You're still here?"

"Nice to see you too," Stefan said sarcastically. "How'd it go with Gloria?"

"General witchy bullshit. Syrena's completely wacko, she was a siren before she turned which is why she can compel all of us, and she basically has a taste for every supernatural creature." I swallowed another mouthful. "Oh, and we can't kill her without cursing ourselves. You know, the usual."

"How are we supposed to stop her from killing everyone?" Stefan asked at the same time as Caroline squeaked "She's a _siren_?"

I rolled my eyes. "First of all, I don't know yet. Second of all, yeah, a siren."

Blondie's eyes widened. "Like a mermaid?"

"Not exactly," Stefan interrupted. He scanned the bookshelf, pulling out a huge tome from the bottom shelf. Flipping it open to the middle, he started reading. "According to Greek mythology, sirens were beautiful half-woman, half-birdlike creatures. They sang melodies so beautiful that sailors passing by couldn't resist stopping. Mesmerized, they were then pulled into the depths of the ocean to their death." He snapped the book shut. "Later, they were depicted as beautiful women with a fish's tail. Either way…"

"Not good for us," I finished.

Blondie still looked confused. "Like in Pirates of the Caribbean?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Do I look like a pirate? How would I know?" I snapped. Although I could definitely pull of the eye patch thing. Johnny Depp's got nothing on me.

"So what are you saying then?" Caroline asked. "If she's a siren, how is she a vampire?"

I sighed. Might as well get this over with. "Gloria said Syrena was originally a siren slash mermaid thingy who did the whole luring-sailors-to-death thing. One day, instead of killing the guy, she fell in love with him. When she tried to leave with him, she transformed into a human. Sirens can't survive without water, so she should have lost her powers completely and died, but something went wrong. Syrena lived, but the magic was no longer compatible with her new system and messed with her mind. When the man eventually left her, she snapped. With no one to take care of her and her unfamiliarity with the human world, she ended up wandering around on the streets in near starvation. Eventually, some vampire saw her and thought she was so beautiful he wanted to stay with her forever. Ergo, he turned her, thinking it would heal her in the process. Clearly, that didn't work. When Syrena turned, the emotions she was already struggling with were heightened and her siren powers were uncontrollable. She ended up killing the vampire who turned her. Obviously, this hardly occurred unnoticed. A witch by the name of Elizabetta Argent did some voodoo thing, and Syrena was tamed. The spell wiped away her memories and basically left her as a blank slate.

Elena took over. "They shut her away in an institution, and several witches were supposed to keep an eye on her. She had no idea who she was or what she was capable of. Everything was fine for a century or so until the witch who originally cast the spell died. Usually, it wouldn't have affected the spell she'd already cast, but Syrena's powers weren't completely vanquished, merely suppressed. Elizabetta's death was the catalyst for a series of events that basically let to a huge massacre. Syrena was angry, heartbroken, and hungry for revenge. But the spell left its mark, and her memories flickered in and out of focus. She had moments of lucidity between stretches of insanity."

She paused. Blondie looked horrified. "Oh, there's more," I assured them. "A do-gooder priest tried to stab her, but as soon as the tip touched her heart, he went into a seizure that left him an invalid. No one else dared to try and stake her again, so she went on her merry way. Five months later, a vampire tried to rip her heart out after she fed on his lover, and he ended up with the equivalent of rabies. Finally, Elizabetta's granddaughter managed to recreate the spell and she was shut in a maximum security padded cell, drugged up and dried out."

"But she got out again? How?" Caroline asked, shaking her head.

Elena and I looked at each other. Gloria hadn't exactly covered that part. "We don't know. No one does," she said finally.

"The place was a mess after they discovered she was missing. Apparently it happened in the middle of the night, and Syrena killed and fed on every orderly and security guard who happened to be working."

"But we don't know what happened that caused the spell on her to lift," Stefan surmised.

"How does she even have a daylight ring?" Caroline questioned.

"Yup," I said. "And she probably stole it. I'll tell you what, I'll leave the brainstorming to you guys." I turned to go. I needed a cold shower and some fucking distance. I've had enough crazy for…oh, I don't know. Three lifetimes, give or take.

"Damon, wait," Stefan said, putting a hand on my shoulder. He exchanged a glance with Caroline before walking me out.

"Look, we've been thinking…" he started.

"Don't hurt yourself," I said snarkily.

"We think you should use the sire bond to make Elena turn it back on," he stated.

I stopped. "What?"

Stefan sighed. "Damon, look at her. It isn't healthy. She can't be like this forever."

"It hasn't been that long," I argued. "She needs time to process what happened."

"That's just it, Damon," Stefan said, taking care not to talk loudly enough for Elena to overhear. "She's not processing anything. She's numb. The only way she's going to move on is to deal with her grief, and right now she can't."

As much as it ticked me off to admit it, Saint Stefan had a point.

"You're the only one she'll listen to," he finished.

"You mean because she has to?" I shot back. God, I hate this stupid fucking sire bond. I hate not knowing what's real and what isn't. I hate the fact that she will only listen to me because she has to, not because she wants to.

"Look, just think about it," Stefan insisted. "This whole thing with Syrena…You know it's the right thing to do."

"Are you saying you're afraid she'll become besties with the resident psycho?" I asked glibly.

"No, I'm saying she could get hurt because she doesn't have her normal inhibitions," Stefan said evenly. "Don't pretend you don't care about her."

Oh, trust me, brother. Not caring enough has never been my problem with her.

* * *

**ELENA**

"What were you guys whispered about?" I wondered. "You look so serious. Lighten up." I gestured with the bottle of Jack I was nursing. "Want some?"

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You stole my alcohol?"

I shrugged. "Why not? I offered you some, didn't I?" I took another sip. "Mmm." I pointed at Damon, shutting one eye to see him better. "You have good taste."

"Elena, this isn't you!" Caroline said desperately.

I frowned in mock confusion, looking down at my hair and body. "I think it is." I set the bottle down. "You just didn't know the real me before. The one who isn't constantly worrying about every single person she loves and whether or not they'll die the next day. The one who's always trying to do the right thing, but ends up hurting everyone around her. That was exhausting, being her." I shook my head. "Whew."

"We think you should turn your emotions back on," Stefan said.

I rolled my eyes. Not this again. Hadn't I just explained what it was like, being that girl? "I already told you I'm not doing that. Do you not understand that I like being this way so much better?" Seriously, how many times do I have to say it? "I thought you cared about me, Stefan," I said softly, lowering my voice in a calculatedly soft plea.

"Of course I do," he said earnestly. He stepped forward. "That's why I want what's best for you."

I shot forward, grabbing his neck and slamming him against the wall. I could feel the dark veins around my eyes pulsing with blood. "Then stop trying to make me into the weak little human I used to be," I enunciated slowly. "I'm not interested."

I felt a familiar pair of hands on my shoulders rip me away, and suddenly it was me with my back against the wall. Stefan stumbled forward, massaging his throat. "Sorry to ruin your fun," Damon said, the words dripping from his mouth dangerously, "but I like to be the only one who messes with Stefan. How do _you _not understand, Elena? Stefan's got about 150 years on you, baby vamp, and he could have shoved your tiny ass to Philadelphia in about three seconds. But he didn't, because he cares about you. Caroline cares about you. We all _care _about you, even if you've forgotten what caring is."

"Aw, isn't that sweet," I said. "I'll buy you a Care Bear," I said, struggling to get out. "But I don't need you to worry about me."

He pushed me roughly back against the wall, pinning me down so I couldn't escape. "What in your pretty little head makes you think I _want _to care about you? Huh?" he snarled. "Do you think I _like _worrying about you? News flash, Elena." He leaned even closer. "It's not always about you."

"Let go of me, Damon!" I yelled. "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS!" I head butted him in the neck in a last ditch attempt to get out. I screamed in frustration, my emotions churning perilously behind the wall I had just installed. "LET. ME. GO!"

"NO!" he yelled back into my face. "Turn it back on!"

I tried to turn away, to escape his gaze that was burning into me. My fangs returned in full force, but he didn't move. Not even an inch. His hand tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. There was nothing of the mischievous sparkle I was so used to seeing. Instead, there was anger, and regret, and…devotion. Love.

"Turn it back on," he repeated gently, cradling my face. I froze, staring back at him. Something flickered in my heart, pushing and shoving against the floodgates that held back my emotions. Stefan and Caroline waited, hovering on the periphery. "No," I finally whispered, and pushed him away.

He blinked. The spell was broken, and I slipped out from under him, ignoring the way my hands shook and my heart pounded.

Caroline looked confused. "What the hell? That should've worked!"

Damon straightened up slowly. He and Stefan met each other's gaze as if they were having a silent conversation. Finally, Stefan looked away.

"Can someone fill me in?" Caroline said, annoyed.

"There's no sire bond," Stefan mumbled.

She looked shocked. "What? But I thought…before, when she did everything he told her to…"

"Because she wanted to," Stefan finished softly.

"Because I loved him," I said honestly. Damon turned to look at me, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

"And now?" he asked so softly I could barely hear him.

**DAMON**

Loved. Not love, present tense. _Loved_. Oh, Irony. Bite my ass. I wanted to laugh. A chuckle died halfway in my throat. So that was it for us? Our big, epic romance lasted exactly two months. Stupid me, thinking this was the great love of my life. It more resembled a fucking junior high relationship. I might as well be some pimply preteen fantasizing about the popular girl in my biology class. There is seriously something fucked-up with the way my brain is hardwired. First Katherine, a girl I spent 150 years searching for before realizing she was more hung up on my brother than me, and now Elena, who apparently doesn't have the capability to love _anyone_ anymore. It felt like the tiny goblin was climbing rope on the tendons of my heart, except that he was too heavy. As if my goddamn heart would rip apart any second.

The tension in the room was palpable. I suddenly decided, why not turn off my emotions too? It's like I always say – emotions? Highly overrated. I closed my eyes, searching for the switch. I had done this before, and I would do it again.

I couldn't find the fucking thing. My nostrils flared in anger as I tried again. I _will_ get my ass out of this emotional hellhole.

It's not fucking there. My eyes snapped open. My switch doesn't exist anymore. The fucking thing disappeared. "I can't do it," I said aloud.

"Can't do what?" Stefan asked warily.

I slammed my hand on the bar and kicked it, smashing every single tumbler, glass, and bottle. Caroline jumped back. Liquor oozed across the carpet, trickling out of broken glass bottles. "I can't. Turn off. My fucking. _Emotions_." I punctuated each phrase with another kick. Glass crunched beneath my boots. I threw the last tumbler against the wall.

I'm not chasing her anymore. If she wants out from whatever this is between us, I will hold the fucking door open.

Screw that, it's the biggest lie I've ever told. I can't even get away with telling it to myself. I will chase her until I have no goddamn pride or dignity left. It's already gone, anyway. I knew that despite whatever shit spewed out of her mouth or whatever the hell she decided to do now or in the future, I would love her forever. Unconditionally and irrevocably.

Fuck Elena Gilbert for making me feel this way. Fuck her for making me care so goddamn much. Fuck _me _for still loving her despite that.

"It's because you love her the way you do," Bonnie whispered. I hadn't even noticed when she'd shown up. Her eyes were suddenly full of compassion, something I've certainly never seen in her before. Directed at me, at least.

"You can't turn your humanity off, because you can't stop loving her. Not even for a second."

_'Cause what you call love _

_baby I call hell_

_-Baby I Call Hell by Deap Vally_

* * *

**This chapter is a bit shorter, but I felt like it was the right place to end it. As always, thank you so much for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting! I literally get so excited when I see your reviews. I'm sorry, I know you all want more Delena moments, but it can't happen quite yet. Eventually, I promise! Also, let me know if anything doesn't make sense plot-wise because when I start thinking about Ian Somerhalder/Damon Salvatore I sometimes temporarily lose all my logic.**


	9. Chapter 8

_The girl sat in the corner of the cell, staring blankly ahead. Outside the room, an orderly swiped a card through the keypad, and the door clicked open. "Syrena?" she said cheerfully. "It's time for your diazepam shot." The girl didn't move. The orderly glanced around and carefully stepped inside, bearing a syringe. She squatted next to the thin redhead and gently took her pale arm. "This won't hurt," she assured her. The needle slid in, pushing the drug into her bloodstream. The orderly quickly swabbed the area with a sterilized cotton pad and smiled. "All done." She left_.

_Syrena waited for the familiar haze to return. But there was something wrong, something different in the drug. She gripped her head as a high, piercing sound filled the air. Pain vibrated within her skull, obliterating everything else._

_The white walls of her cell padded cell faded away, replaced with a dark alley. She was so cold, shivering in the dead of night. The world was different – older. Though it was winter, she wore only a white, ragged nightgown. She staggered to the ground, holding her arms around her stomach. She was so hungry. Her gums throbbed with a sharpening ache. A man quickly strode by, not even noticing the small girl curled up on the ground._

_"Stop," he heard. He knew it wasn't safe here, but that voice – so sweet, so melodic, like honey drizzled on his senses – he stopped. Noticing the girl, he bent down in concern. "Are you all right?" he asked worriedly. He took his scarf off and wrapped it around her neck._

_"Thank you," she whispered. "Please help me."_

_Her eyes were mesmerizing. He felt as if he was sinking into a gentle void, and suddenly the only thing in the world he wanted to do was help this girl. "What can I do?" he asked._

_"I'm so hungry," she said, reaching out with a slender hand._

_He leaned in. "I shall bring you some food," he offered. "I live not far from here –"_

_She shook her head coyly. "No. I need only you," she said, smiling before she sank her fangs into the delicate flesh of his neck._

_The alley flickered, and again that blinding pain – and suddenly Syrena was in another cell. This one was different – much older than her current chamber. The walls were dirty, the floor filthy with unidentifiable stains. There were chains wrapped around her ankles, digging in painfully. Every sense was heightened, so much so that it was terrifying. A single bead of water slid down the wall and dripped onto the floor. It was deafening. Someone stopped outside the door, and she lunged desperately, chains clanking. "LET ME OUT!" she cried desperately. "I promise I won't do it again, I promise, just please, please let me out."_

_The figure hovered. "You know I can't do that," a feminine voice answered. "You're killing people. I can't let you do that anymore."_

_She froze. "Who are you?" A young girl of about 17 let herself in, quickly closing the door behind her. Suddenly, earsplitting pain exploded in Syrena's skull, and she collapsed back onto the floor. "I'm sorry," the girl said empathetically, watching her writhe around. "It's a necessary measure. You're out of control, Syrena."_

_"Who are you?" the redhead gasped. "How do you know my name?"_

_The other girl advanced slowly. "Please don't worry about that," she said. A tiny smile appeared on her lips. "My name is Elizabetta Argent, and I'm going to help you."_

_Syrena slid back frantically, pressing herself against the metal leg of her bed. "How?" she whispered. Elizabetta simply smiled. "Stay still," she said, raising her arms. She began to chant, and Syrena keeled over, limp._

_The lights flashed again, voices and scattered conversations weaving in and out of her mind as fractured images skittered across her corneas. She was starting to remember. The old magic shimmered, waiting to be unleashed._

* * *

**ELENA**

_There is no pain you are receding  
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon  
You are only coming through in waves  
Your lips move  
But I can't hear what you're saying_

_When I was a child_  
_I caught a fleeting glimpse_  
_Out of the corner of my eye_

_I turned to look but it was gone_  
_I cannot put my finger on it now_  
_The child is grown_  
_The dream is gone_  
_I have become comfortably numb_

_-Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd_

"Hi, Elena," someone said brightly.

I was only slightly surprised to see Syrena. The boarding house seemed to be her new favorite place. "What the hell are _you _doing here?" I asked as I took out the black dress I was planning to wear to the funeral. I slipped off the plastic cover and snipped off the tags.

She looked hurt. "Can't I drop by and say hi?"

"Not when you just killed my brother."

Syrena tilted her head as she studied me. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that. You're not as upset as most people usually are," she mused. I shrugged. She didn't even know the half of it. "You haven't even tried to kill me yet. You're almost as messed up as me," she said gaily.

"Not even close," I said, throwing her a dark glance. "I still have my sanity." I'm going rip her precious little head off as soon as I pick a necklace to go with this dress. Or until we find a way to kill her without foaming at the mouth.

"Barely," she assured me. "Do you know where Damon is?"

"Nope."

She pouted. "He said he'd bring me something to eat." Her eyes darkened. "He _lied_." Silence fell. "I'd go with the pendant," Syrena said, pointing to the necklace in my right hand.

* * *

The funeral was predictable. I stroked the petal of a freesia embedded in a huge, elaborate flower arrangement. Jeremy always hated those. I plucked the flower out and crushed it beneath my fingertips, reducing it to a fine powder.

April approached me. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Elena," she said earnestly, her large eyes filled with tears.

"Thanks."

She hovered. "If there's anything I can do…" her voice trailed off. God, I know she's young, but I don't remember her being quite this annoying.

"There isn't," I responded as smoothly as I could manage. I closed my eyes briefly.

When I opened them, she was still standing there. "Um, Elena…what really happened?" she asked. "I'm sorry," she added quickly. "It's just…" I watched the blood rush to her lower lip as she bit it anxiously, swelling ever so slightly. "There's no way the house burned down by itself," she blurted.

I tilted my head. "That's none of your concern."

A small crease appeared between her dark brows. "Elena, it's me. You know I know about…" she lowered her voice. "Vampires. Please, I was close to Jeremy. I deserve to know what really happened."

I stepped closer. I heard her intake in breath. Her heartbeat quickened, but she stood her ground. Poor thing. She didn't know I wouldn't hesitate to kill her. "Are you contradicting me?" I asked mildly.

"N-no, of course not, I just –" She was like a scared rabbit.

"You just what? You thought you knew Jeremy better than I did?" I asked, still advancing. The church had cleared out, and we were the only ones left.

"No, Elena, that's not what I'm saying –" I could smell the fear emanating off her, waves of sharp acrid adrenaline.

"What are you saying, then?" My gaze dropped to her neck, where her pulse throbbed under her rosy skin. Onto her wrist, where I could make out a maze of pale blue veins twisting just beneath the surface. She tried to step back, stuttering incomprehensibly, but bumped clumsily against the wooden pew. "Oh, April," I crooned as my fangs popped out. "Stay still," I compelled her.

She tried to make a run for it. I'd forgotten about the vervain she must have taken to wearing all the time. I knew somewhere inside of me, there was a part that used to care about her. She was an orphan, like me.

But where I should have felt sympathy was simply a vast region of…nothing. Except perhaps anger that she felt the need to ask _so many questions_. Even before I turned my humanity off, I remember her being too curious for her own good.

"Y-you can't," April stammered. "I – I have vervain in my system!"

I raised my head. "Are you lying to me?"

"No, I swear I'm not, just please –" She was tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. I released her and she gasped loudly in relief. It was all so _boring _and _predictable. _Like this funeral. People murmured sympathetic things with so much fucking pity in their eyes. _Poor girl. Poor Elena Gilbert. She lost her parents, then her aunt, and now her brother._ They didn't even know about Jon. Too many dead Gilberts to keep track of. _So sad. An orphan, yes. An only child. What will she do now? Did she have anyone to take care of her? Grandparents? No? Tsk, tsk. I made her a casserole. Yes, I brought lasagna. The least we can do is make sure she's well fed. _

I licked my lips. At least one person was right.

"Get out," a low voice from behind me said to April. She took one last look at me and ran. Huh. I think that's the first time I've produced that effect in anyone.

Cool.

"What are you doing here, Damon?" I asked. "Come to pay your respects?" I gestured to the urn.

A muscle in his jaw flexed. "Nice way to commemorate Baby Gilbert. By almost killing the girl you used to babysit at his funeral. It's unconventional. I like it." The smirk on playing around his lips didn't reach his eyes.

I rolled my eyes. "Are we still doing the whole let's-stop-Elena-from-making-a-mistake-she'll-regret-afterwards thing?"

"No-o," he said slowly, drawing the word out into two syllables. "We're doing the whole let's-not-make-a-mess-in-a-church-and-make-Damon-clean-it-up thing." He brushed off the sleeve of his suit. "I just got this dry-cleaned. So anyway, you can skedaddle." Damon waited expectantly. I didn't move. "I'm sorry, was that not clear?" he asked. His gaze hardened. "Get your ass out of here."

"You can't kick me out of my own brother's funeral," I said calmly.

"I can when I seem to care more about him than you do."

"What makes you say that?" I wondered. "He's my brother, Damon. Humanity or not, I know that."

He didn't say anything at first. "Yeah. Interesting way to show it," he said quietly, gesturing in the direction April had run away.

I snorted derisively. "That's rich, coming from you. You killed him before, when you didn't even know he was wearing his ring." My eyes stung oddly, but the wetness of tears did not come. I felt the phantom of sadness graze my consciousness and braced myself automatically – but it was fleeting, gone in an instant.

"And I will regret that for the rest of my existence," Damon said, his tone ringing with sincerity. I noticed he didn't say 'life.' "But you? You won't even feel regret, because you're too busy feeling nothing. Coming from someone who knows – let me tell you, after a while, something – _anything_ – is better than nothing."

* * *

**DAMON**

_Give me love like never before,  
'cause lately I've been craving more,  
And it's been a while but I still feel the same,  
Maybe I should let you go,  
You know I'll fight my corner,  
And that tonight I'll call ya,  
After my blood is drowning in alcohol,  
No I just wanna hold ya._

_-Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran_

I splashed cold water onto my face. I'm so fucked. Part of me wants to book a one-way flight to New York or better yet, Maui, but the other part – the part that insists on being influenced by the little goblin known as DAMON'S FEELINGS FOR ELENA GILBERT - knows that running away rarely solves anything. Leaning over the sink, I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes.

Fuck this, St. Tropez sound better by the second. I'm going to kick that little goblin's ass once and for all. Decisively, I swung open the bathroom door and strolled out purposefully to go home and pack. Just me and the sun and some fruity tropical cocktail shit –

"Damon!"

I stopped in my tracks. Fucking hell. I was _just _about to escape. "Not now, Blondie," I said, brushing by Caroline.

She grabbed my wrist to stop me. "This is important."

"Isn't it always," I muttered under my breath. "What is it?"

"Syrena," she responded simply.

* * *

I followed her to a small room at the end of the hallway, both of us keeping a brisk pace. She pushed open the door and I paused, taking in the scene. An old man was slumped over the small desk. Blood was spattered all over the furniture, stains gleaming darkly on his clothing.

"Shit," I breathed. A thought occurred to me. "How do you know it wasn't Elena?"

Caroline shook her head as though it made her sick to even consider it. "She wouldn't do this."

I sighed. "Have you seen her recently?"

"Okay, yes, it's not that far-fetched," Blondie admitted, "but this wasn't her." She went over and gingerly tipped him back onto his chair. A dagger was half-embedded in his chest, the handle sticking out visibly. "Didn't a priest try and kill Syrena?"

"Shit," I said again. I pulled out my phone. "I'm calling Stefan." I nodded towards the poor bastard. "We need to get rid of this."

"Yes, we do," Caroline agreed, flouncing out.

"Where do you think you're going?" I asked. "You're staying here and helping me clean this up."

She stared at me as if I was total nutjob. "But you always do that. And I have to get back to my house and make sure the reception is going smoothly." She scowled indignantly. "I made _all _the arrangements for this funeral, and does Elena bother to thank me? No."

"Poor you. And I only do it because no one else does! I'm not doing it this time," I snapped. "Do you see this suit?" I asked, gesturing to myself. "It's Armani. Does no one appreciate how much it cost?" I said, parroting her tone.

Blondie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. You probably compelled the salesgirl to give it to you for free."

I averted my eyes. "Details. But I'm not cleaning this up by myself." I folded my arms.

* * *

I dumped his body in the quarry, watching to make sure it sank to the bottom. If they ever decide to drain that thing, I'm fucking screwed.

Suddenly, I felt a gentle gust of wind by my side. "You're right," Elena said by way of greeting.

"I _know_," I said smugly. Wait. "Which particular thing am I right about?" What am I doing? I shouldn't even be talking to her, what with 'I loved you" and all that unpleasant jazz. I should be sipping mai tais on the beach. Or something along those lines, just slightly more masculine. I should be making out with some girl in a coconut bra. I should be _screwing _some girl in a coconut bra. I should be –

"About my humanity." She turned to me, trapping me in a chocolaty haze. Her eyes seemed bottomless, filled with nothing and everything at the same time.

Don't fall for it. Do _not _fall for her – I mean, it – again. Do not fucking do it. "What about it?" slipped out of my mouth. I wanted to grab a huge roll of duct tape and wrap it around my entire jaw. Every defensive instinct was screaming at me to put eight thousand miles between myself and this girl, but my feet were rooted to the ground.

"This…this isn't me," Elena said. "I thought it would be easier this way, but…"

"-it's not," I finished for her. She nodded mutely. Goddamn it, Damon. I should just chop my balls off and offer myself up to her on a silver platter.

Oh, wait. I've already done that.

"So turn it back on," I said as if I didn't care what she did either way.

She let out a single bark of laughter, harsh and mirthless. "It's not that easy."

"Isn't it?" I asked without looking at her. I knew if I looked at her, my resolve would crumble into nothing and I wasn't ready to give up the last vestiges of my pride quite yet. I needed the anger and rage and resentment just to prevent myself from melting into a puddle at her feet.

"It never is," she responded simply. "I…" She hesitated. "I know I haven't been fair to you. But when Jeremy died…" She swallowed. "It was the only way for me to deal." She looked so fragile, long strands of dark glossy hair blowing gently in the breeze. But there was also a hint of something stronger, something almost feral. Like she would bite me if I tried to pet her.

"Might I suggest a diary?" I said dryly. "This sounds more like a soliloquy than anything else."

"I'm trying to figure out what I feel, Damon!"

"You're always trying to figure out what you feel, Elena! You have to write in your little diary and date Stefan and kiss me and dump Stefan and dump me while we all just sit here waiting for you to sort out all those _feelings_. Even when you don't have any goddamn feelings, you still manage to do the same fucking thing."

"Damon –"

"It's not even all your fault, because no matter how many times you screw me over, Elena, I'm still here waiting for you." I looked her in the eye. "The worst part is, you know that and you still do what you do anyway."

* * *

**ELENA**

Emotions were bubbling to the surface, bursting and blazing through the ice I'd tried so hard to cling to. I wanted to fight it, but I wanted to feel again. I wanted happiness without sorrow and love without pain and lightness without darkness.

But you can't choose what you feel, and once I opened the lid there was no turning back. There was joy and anguish and regret and pleasure and grief mingled together, impossibly and inextricably intertwined.

And love. So much love it hurt.

* * *

**DAMON**

Tell me I'm the only one for you. Tell me you'll never leave me. Tell me that you feel a _fraction_ for me of what I feel for you. And say because you _want_ to say it. Because I feel like my heart is going to explode out of my fucking chest if I have to live for one more second knowing that you _loved_ me.

_Make me come alive  
Come on turn me on  
Touch me, save my life  
Come on and turn me on  
I'm too young to die  
Come on and turn me on  
Turn me on_

_-Turn Me On by David Guetta_

* * *

**I know you guys can't wait for more Delena, it's coming (finally) in the next chapter. Thanks for all of your support so far :) In the meantime, please review! x**


	10. Chapter 9

_Never have I had, a rational mind and_

_Never have I been, rational inside_

_My good, my heart and my head_

_That's the way they've always been_

_Never gonna change, who I am_

_Just cause you'll never understand_

_Never gonna apologize_

_For being so intense_

_How the hell would that make any sense?_

_-They Told Me by Sallie Ford & The Sound Outside_

__**DAMON**

I grabbed a bag and started blindly tossing random shit inside. Fiji, here I come. Screw Mystic fucking Falls. I don't even know why I stayed so long in the first place. Tucking a flask in the side pocket, I slipped on a pair of aviators and slammed the door. I'm so fucking excited for those tiny-ass bottles of vodka.

I smiled beguilingly at the woman behind the United Airlines desk. "One ticket to Fiji, please."

She raised an eyebrow and typed something into the computer. "I'm sorry, sir, but all the flights today are booked. The earliest flight I can get you on is…Friday."

I inhaled, as my fingers curled into fists at my side. Today was Tuesday. I leaned forward, widening my eyes slightly. "I don't think you understand…" I glanced at her nametag. "Alison. I need a flight _today_."

She blinked, slightly mesmerized. "Let me see what I can do," she said, tapping away. Ha. And I didn't even compel her. "Okay, you're all set for the 6.30 flight," she said. "You have one stop in San Francisco with a 2-hour layover."

"Am I in first class?"

"No…"

I smiled with as much charm as I could muster. "Is there anything you could do about that?"

"Uh…let me see…if I rearrange…" She printed out my ticket and handed to me. First class. Excellent. "Gate 15A. Security is over there."

Pfft. Like I'm going to go through security.

After I compelled my way through, I settled into a seat at the gate with a copy of GQ and a cup of black coffee.

Okay, I spiked it a little. I made a face as I took a sip. Even my fortified version was nearly intolerable. Did airports have a rule against drinkable coffee?

A leggy blonde dropped into the seat next to me, smiling flirtatiously.

"Seat's taken, honey," I said without thinking. She looked taken aback, as if no one had ever turned her down before. Which, considering her…ah, _assets_, was probably true. But there's a first time for everything.

"By who?" she asked, fluttering her lashes coquettishly.

I flipped open my magazine and scanned the pages unhurriedly. "Not you," I said without bothering to look up. She huffed as she picked up her bag and strutted away. Elena would never -

Don't even go there, you pathetic bastard. Goddamn it. I should've taken that distraction when I had the chance. On second thought…

"Hey, you," I called to the blonde's retreating back. She turned reluctantly, still miffed. I patted the seat next to me invitingly.

* * *

**ELENA**

I stood in front of what remained of my house. Tears were rolling silently down my cheeks. I was amazed there was any fluid at all left inside my body. It felt like all I had done for the past two years was cry. Memories were glittering harshly in my mind, and facing them was like trying to stare straight into the sun. I hadn't forgotten any of it, but it seemed like they had intensified, radiating with the backlash of repressed emotions. It felt incredibly pathetic, but also completely necessary.

"Poor you," a voice drawled. I turned around slowly to see Rebekah standing there, looking as if it bored her to even look at me. "I see you've decided to turn your humanity back on," she said. "Pity. I heard you were much more fun without it."

I wiped my eyes and pushed myself back to my feet. "Go away."

"Ouch, that hurt. You know, you should really work on your comebacks."

"I'm not in the mood for this, Rebekah," I said. "I-"

"Oh, I know," she interrupted. "Your newly restored humanity means you're back on your moral high horse and you're moping about all the idiotic stunts you pulled back when you didn't care."

"How could I do that?" I asked myself out loud. "What I did to those people…April…I just, I can't –" And Damon. What I did to Damon. For the first time, I wished I could be compelled, just to forget the look in his eyes when I told him I 'loved' him.

But at the same time, I deserve it. I deserve to know what I did and deal with the consequences.

"Do I look like your diary?" Rebekah cut in. "Because –"

It was my turn to interrupt. "Nope," I said, staring ahead. "I burned that. Along with everything else."

Rebekah was uncharacteristically silent. "Don't try to tell me to pull myself together," I said. "I'm well aware my life is a disaster."

"I wasn't going to," she said. I shot her a confused look, and she sighed. "Look, Elena. I'm not totally heartless. Jeremy was your only family, and…" Rebekah hesitated. "And I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," I said after a pause. She nodded. "So…what are you doing here?" I asked after a beat.

"I was looking for you, actually."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "Why?"

"Something happened at Jeremy's funeral you need to know about."

She quickly explained the priest's suspicious death. I inhaled. Think. "Okay. I need to talk to Damon.

Rebekah rolled her eyes. "Did you not just hear me? We need to get the little redheaded brat under control. Your reunion with your boyfriend can wait."

"Damon's the only one who can handle her," I snapped. Although it was true I was dying to talk to him and apologize. "Where is he?"

* * *

"He WHAT?"

Caroline backed away nervously, twisting her hands. "I'm sorry, Elena. He didn't tell any of us, he just left."

"But…but most of his stuff is still here!" I argued. My eyes trailed to his open closet. His favorite leather jacket was missing, along with his passport and the silver flask that usually stood on his dresser. Fuck. I kicked the bedpost in frustration, leaving a dent. "How long ago did he leave?" I asked, pacing impatiently and flicking my hair out my face. Caroline opened her mouth, but I cut her off. "You know, I'm just going to go to the airport. I'm assuming he's about to hop on a some flight since he took his passport."

"You could just wait until he gets back!" Caroline called after me as I brushed by. I didn't want to say it out loud for fear of having it come true, but I had a nasty feeling he wasn't planning on coming back at all. I couldn't even blame him for it after the way I'd treated him. The only thing I could do was try to catch him before he left for good.

**DAMON**

"So then I was like, no _you're _the prettiest, and then she was like no _you _are, and then I was like…" I was seriously regretting my decision of calling her back. I had endured about twenty minutes of nonsensical babble about sororities and beauty pageants. Jesus. I have no idea why I do this to myself. I unscrewed the top of my flask and took a sip, letting the alcohol wash through my veins. I was very nearly drunk, though it seemed no amount of vodka-induced haze could block out the blonde's annoying words.

"You're not even listening," she pouted. She'd told me her name, but I'd forgotten it almost immediately. Fuck it. I'm just going to wing it.

"Brandi," I guessed, taking a shot in the dark. It seemed an appropriately ditzy name. "I promise you I'm listening," I assured her, lying my ass off. I'm sure she's a very nice girl, but I have zero fucks to give about her kitten named Princess Sparkles.

She frowned, puzzled. "Who's Brandi?"

Damn. "Ah…I meant…could you be a dear and go buy us some brandy?"

She sighed melodramatically. "But we're boarding soon!"

"Go. Buy. Alcohol," I repeated, layering my voice with compulsion.

"Okay," she agreed brightly, getting up. I slumped back in my seat in relief. If I have to hear one more anecdote about Princess Sparkles, I'm going cut my fucking ear off, van Gogh style.

I wonder what Elena's doing. I wonder if she even noticed I left. Probably not. I wonder if –

"Damon!" I turned to see Elena running towards me.

"Elena," I breathed, her name like honey on my lips. She barreled straight into me, pressing her face into the lapels of my jacket. My arms wrapped around her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She lifted her face to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry," she babbled. "Damon, I'm so, so sorry, just please don't leave, please, _I love you_ -"

I crushed my lips against hers. She kissed back hungrily. My hands were tangled in her long hair, pulling her as close as I could. She tasted like peppermint. I couldn't get enough of her. I never could. God, it felt good. It felt like running around on a summer day with the sun shining in a perfect blue sky. It felt like the first taste of blood when you're so fucking hungry it's the only thing you can think about. It felt like-

"They didn't have brandy, but I got us tequila!" My eyes snapped open. The blonde was standing in front of me, waving two bottles gaily. Elena was nowhere to be seen. I sat up slowly. Brandi or whatever the fuck her name is squinted at me through layers of heavy black mascara. "Are you okay?"

I rubbed hand over my face, trying not to choke the overpowering scent of perfume that was definitely not jasmine. "Not even close."

**ELENA**

I arrived at the airport and rushed up to a random desk. "Have you seen Damon Salvatore?" I demanded breathlessly.

The man looked at me oddly. "Excuse me?"

I slammed my palms on the desk. "Damon Salvatore," I repeated. "Have you seen him?"

"Miss, we can't give out information about individual passengers," he informed me. "Now, unless there's something else I can help you with, you're going to have to leave."

I snarled, my fangs pushing at my gums. I forced myself to calm down. "Please check," I compelled him.

He obediently typed in the name on his monitor as I tapped the counter impatiently. "It looks like he bought a ticket for tonight's flight to Fiji," he read.

"When does that leave?"

"It's boarding…now."

I peered around the desk to see the screen to check the gate number. "Thanks," I said before dashing off. A security officer tried to stop me at security. "Miss, can I see your ticket?" he asked warily as he took in my frazzled appearance.

"Um, I don't, uh, exactly have one, but –"

"I'm sorry, but you can't be in this area without a ticket," he said firmly, steering me away.

My last thread of patience broke. I grabbed his wrist, breaking his hold. He stopped in surprise, letting out a small squeak of pain. "You better fucking let me go right now or I will smash the bones in your wrist into four hundred pieces." Eyes wide, he nodded, and I made my escape before some other dumbass tried to stop me.

It seems my old humanity hasn't returned in full quite yet. Maybe it never will. Maybe this is the real me. I was strangely okay with it.

I ran full speed into the terminal, searching the gates desperately. Spotting Gate 15A, I sprinted towards it only to find empty seats and abandoned fast food bags. I could barely swallow. FLIGHT 234952 TO SUVA, FIJI: BOARDED blinked at me across the screen in orange. Without thinking, I ran through the hallway that led to the airplane. With any luck, it hadn't taken off yet.

Oh wait, I never have any luck.

I descended the small set of steps frantically, spotting the plane sitting on the runway. I hopped up the steps and burst straight into the aircraft. The flight attendant looked completely taken aback. "Miss? Are you supposed to be on this flight?" she asked, confused. "We're about to take off!" I ignored her, craning my neck. Damon was sitting in a huge, comfortable chair in the fourth row of first class, staring morosely out the window as a busty blonde chattered in his ear.

"Damon," I breathed.

He glanced up disinterestedly, then did a double take. "Elena?" He was staring at me as if I was an apparition. I quickly crossed the few feet that separated us. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes roaming over me like he'd never seen me before.

"I'm sorry, Damon," I said, my voice cracking. "I –"

"Uh, hello?" The blonde currently parked between myself and Damon waved a manicured hand. "Who are you?"

"Shut up," Damon and I said simultaneously. He quickly climbed over her and joined me in the aisle, cupping my face in his hands. "It's you," he whispered.

"It's me," I agreed, tears welling up in my eyes again. Damn it Elena, stop crying, I chastised myself. His thumb gently stroked away the fallen tears. We stared at each other, neither of us moving.

"I'm going to have to insist you leave," the flight attendant said, hovering anxiously.

Damon grinned at me. "What do you say to coming to Fiji with me?" he asked.

I laughed through my tears at the ridiculousness of it all. "As tempting as that sounds, there's real life to get back to. Syrena…and the priest…"

"Screw real life," he murmured, finally pulling me in for a kiss that was less than chaste and most likely completely inappropriate for the rest of the plane's passengers.

* * *

**I'm so sorry for the delay! And I know this chapter has basically no plot and it's a massive piece of fluff, but at least there's some Delena. Please continue to read and review, I really appreciate your responses x**


	11. Chapter 10

"I think I like you better this way," Damon said, eyeing me appreciatively as he drove us back. Despite how tempting it was to take off to Fiji, there were bigger problems we had to deal with first. Namely, Syrena – or, as Damon put it, "the homicidal elf." "You're different. In a good way," he clarified.

"Really? How?" I asked as I sorted through Damon's collection of tiny glass bottles. "Aha," I said as I found a mini version of Grey Goose.

"You're more…relaxed somehow. Like you're more comfortable," he said.

I considered this. "I don't feel exactly the same as before. I know when my humanity was turned off, I was…different," I started carefully. Like a tiny bit of the spontaneity that had emerged in my worst self had left a permanent mark. I wasn't emotionless anymore, but I wasn't the worried martyr either. I was somewhere in between.

"You mean you were a raging bitch?" Damon said as he kept his eyes on the road, though the corner of his mouth twitched and his tone lacked malice.

"I deserved that," I admitted. "Although don't think I didn't see you cuddling up to the blonde on the airplane," I pointed out. "How are you going to make it up to me?" I said with playful grin.

His hand slid up my thigh. "Oh, I can think of a few ways," he answered devilishly.

Tingles ran through my body. "Focus," I reprimanded him as seriously as I could manage. "Syrena? Dead priest? Ring a bell?"

"Vaguely," Damon grumbled as his hand returned to the steering wheel. "Bonnie said she had some witchy crap in mind."

"A spell? To do what?" I asked curiously as we pulled up at the boarding house.

"Ask her yourself," he said, nodding towards the porch. Bonnie was standing there with her arms folded, a small smile on her face.

"Elena," she exclaimed. We hugged, and I buried my face in her shoulder. "It's good to have you back," she sighed.

"Damon said you had a spell that might help us with Syrena?" I asked, pulling away. Thought it was most definitely good to see her again, something about her comment irked me.

"Yeah," she said, turning back to go inside. "I found it in Gram's grimoire. Come on!"

Damon and I followed her inside. "Caroline?" I said tentatively upon seeing her and Stefan huddled in the library. They turned cautiously to look at me. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking at seeing my old friend through fresh eyes. "Those things I said and-and did, I didn't mean them – or all of them, at least - "

"It's okay, Elena," Caroline said, embracing me. "We've been best friends for years, and that isn't going to change."

Stefan watched us carefully. "It's okay, Stefan," I said. "I'm not going to bite," I joked lamely. He looked as if he wasn't quite sure if I was serious or not. "That was a joke," I amended. "It's…" I trailed off awkwardly. "Never mind."

He smiled briefly. "Welcome back."

"Thanks."

"Have you seen this?" Damon asked, striding into the room and waving his phone.

Stefan took it and zoomed in on the tiny screen. His eyes grew dark with concern as he read the article. "Fourteen murders between here and the next two towns over. Naturally, the police are 'working on possible leads,' which means…"

"They have absolutely no idea who's behind them," Damon filled in. "Obviously, the bodies have all been drained of blood, leading them to believe it's an animal behind the attacks."

"Why would Syrena stay in the area?" I wondered.

"Because she's got unfinished business here," a dry British voice drawled.

"Klaus," Damon greeted him sardonically. "What brings my least favorite vampire Ken here?"

Stefan stepped protectively in front of me. "Relax," Klaus said, rolling his eyes. "I have no intention of harming your little doppelganger." He leered at me. "Yet."

"Then get out," Damon said lazily.

"Shan't," Klaus responded. "Besides, you need me."

"And why is that?" Caroline scoffed.

He grinned at her. "Because I know what Syrena wants."

* * *

**DAMON**

I wondered why it was that whenever my life evened out – even for about, say, five minutes – life felt the need to throw another curveball. I like action as much as the next guy, but after 170 years, the routine gets old. "So you're telling me, basically, that Syrena doesn't know what she's doing, but you do?"

Klaus nodded. I cocked my head. "That's it. After a thousand-plus years, you've finally snapped."

His nostrils flared in anger. "You don't have any other options. So I'd take the advice I could get."

Fair point. "So what's your plan?" I asked resentfully.

"Six of her victims were priests. Clearly, there's a pattern. She's subconsciously targeting them because somewhere in her mind, she wants revenge for what happened to her. Five of them were vampires, which tells us…well, it tells us she's not a picky eater and most definitely more powerful than you lot. The last one was a witch. ARGHHH!" At his last words, Klaus bent over double, holding his head in his hands.

"Bonnie. Maybe it's not the best time for that," Stefan said, glancing at the angry witch.

Klaus slowly straightened up, glaring at us in his typical serial-killer way. "Do that again and I'll snap your neck," he growled at Bonnie.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" I asked unsympathetically.

"Why would Syrena go after a witch?" Saint Stefan asked, shifting his weight and crossing his arms. I have a theory he stands like that so often because he thinks it makes his biceps pop out.

"A witch was the one who cursed her. Ergo, she wants revenge. Or the part of her that remembers does, according to Ken," I summed up.

"That is so messed up," Caroline sniped. Well done, Blondie. Excellent observation. It's so hard to remember she's smarter than she looks when she says shit like that.

"How do you know Syrena so well?" Elena asked curiously.

Klaus smiled tightly. "Elena, dear. You don't want to know."

"How do we kill her?" Bonnie asked bluntly.

"A bit eager, this one," Klaus said, raising his eyebrows.

"Just get to the point," Stefan stated calmly. Man, I get such a kick out of shattering that mask of humanity he insists on parading around in. I'd say it's about time to do that again, judging from his oh-so-righteous expression.

Although I don't disagree.

"Fine," Klaus said, clearly pouting he couldn't have his dramatic reveal. Originals. So melodramatic. "_Bonnie _over there," he said, spitting her name out, "is going to use a magic little spell I like to call Entrapment."

"I already found that, genius," Bonnie snapped.

"What does it do?" Blondie asked. This time, I wasn't the only one to stare at her incredulously.

"I'm guessing it, uh…traps her," Elena answered.

"Oh."

"Moving on," Klaus barked. "You're going to Entrap her, which won't hold her off forever, but it'll give us time."

"Time for what?" Stefan asked skeptically.

"To find a descendant of the witch who cast the original spell. We're going to find the great-great-great-granddaughter of Elizabetta Argent."

* * *

**ELENA**

"Are you sure this is going to work, Bonnie?" I asked, eyeing the items she had set out. "You're not related to her, so can they even help you?"

"Yeah, kind of thought you burned that bridge," Damon put in.

Bonnie inhaled. "I don't know for sure. But I'm almost positive they know something. Witches are all interconnected. We can sense supernatural power in others. The problem will be getting them to tell me what they know."

"Well…be careful," I told her. _Because you don't have Jeremy to look out for you anymore, and neither do I, _I added silently. Fresh grief began to well up inside me, but I forced it down to be dealt with later. Not now. I can't afford to fall apart again.

Bonnie began chanting. Her hair rose eerily around her like a warped version of Medusa's snakes. The candles flickered and went out with a gust of air.

"So…does that mean no one's home?" Damon whispered. I stifled a laugh at his inappropriate joke. This was serious.

Suddenly, the candles re-lit, bursting into unnaturally large flames. Bonnie was still chanting with unbroken concentration, and her hands were beginning to shake. Blood flowed freely from her nose. "Bonnie!" I exclaimed, moving forward to help her.

Damon grabbed my wrist. "Stop," he hissed. "We don't know what kind of effect that will have." He considered her. "Just let her finish her conversation." We watched her for a moment. "Or whatever it is she's doing," he amended.

In a few moments, the flames went out, and Bonnie slumped forward. I rushed to catch her. "Bonnie," I said gently as her eyes fluttered open. "Are you okay?"

"What did they say?" Damon asked, handing her a box of tissues. He nodded towards her nosebleed. "Don't get that on my furniture."

Bonnie sat up slowly. "They know Elizabetta."

Damon waited. "And?" he prodded.

"She is survived by Amelie Argent. But…" Bonnie closed her eyes, resting briefly.

"So how do we contact her? Where is she?" Damon asked impatiently.

"Damon! Let her rest," I said. "So…where is she?" I asked after waiting nine seconds.

"In the hospital," Bonnie murmured.

I frowned. "What? Is she injured? Or sick?"

"Sick," Bonnie whispered. She touched her temple and shook her head, trying to rouse herself.

"Well, let's go see her then," Damon said.

"You can try, but it won't help," Bonnie said tonelessly.

Damon narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Because she's spent the last six years in the psychiatric ward."

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Caroline blurted.

"I wish," I said wearily.

"But – how? Why?"

"Bonnie thinks it's because there's still a connection between Amelie and Syrena. When Syrena tried to fight the spell, Amelie could feel it, and she tried to reinforce it. But by doing that, she put herself in danger of experiencing residual effects of Elizabetta's original spell."

"So…you're saying Amelie cursed herself?" Caroline asked, wrinkling her nose in utter confusion.

I didn't blame her. Trying to understand the full story was like trying to get through a maze without an exit. "Not on purpose. But essentially…yes."

"Poor girl," she said softly. I nodded in agreement. "Are you going to go see her anyway? To see if there's anything you might be able to get out of her?"

"I think so," I answered. "We don't really have any other leads right now."

"Elena," Caroline began in a voice that made me tense in preparation for a conversation I did not want to have. "I know you don't want to talk about this. But as your best friend, I have to ask." She hesitated. "How are you dealing?"

"With?" I asked, stalling.

"Everything," she said simply. I looked at my hands. "Elena, you've been through a lot. It's okay to…to _feel_."

"Is it?" I asked. "Because I feel like I'm on the verge of a breakdown every single fucking day. I'm holding it together, but barely. I drink, because while turning off my humanity wasn't the answer, it was better being numb than feeling like this."

"Even if it meant you couldn't love Damon?" Caroline suggested.

"No," I said slowly. "Of course not. But it was just…easier. Simple. Straightforward. You know?"

"I do," she said, surprising me. "When my dad died, I wanted to take off my ring and walk straight into the sun. But I can't change who I am or what happened in the past, and neither can you. The only thing we can do is deal with it a little bit at the time, day by day and week by week."

"And wait for time to heal all wounds?" I quipped without enthusiasm.

"Not exactly." Caroline reached over and poured me a measure of Damon's bourbon. I laughed, half-hiccuping, and took a sip. "But in all seriousness, you need your friends, Elena. Even if you don't like it, we're all you've got. Let us be there for you, like you were there for me."

"Thanks, Care," I said, hugging my friend.

She watched me. "There's something else bothering you, isn't there?" she guessed.

"Maybe," I admitted. She waited. I twirled the glass in my fingers as I tried to put my thoughts into words. "Everyone expects me to go back to the same person I was before all this happened," I said slowly. "When my humanity was off, I was the worst version of myself. But it was still me, just magnified." I took another sip. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…I can't go back."

"No one expects you to," Caroline said, surprising me again.

"Bonnie does! And Stefan," I pointed out.

"But not me. Or Damon," she argued.

"But what about Bonnie and Stefan?" I asked.

"Elena, not everyone is going to react the way you want them to," she said wisely. "So just take it at face value, okay?"

"God, when did you become so smart?" I asked as we got up.

"I always have been! It's just that no one ever notices." Catching sight of my expression, she laughed and relented. "Okay, _maybe _I have the occasional dumb blonde moment."

**DAMON**

So now all we have to do is track down a crazy witch, use her to track down a crazier elf with the help of a crazy Original, and kill her without going crazy ourselves.

Good thing life is so simple.

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter, it was a little hard to write. More Delena moments coming up later :)**


End file.
